Major Crush by Jennifer Echols
by Kago-girl
Summary: Kagome Higurashi tosses her tiara, pierces her nose, and auditions for the most unlikely or roles drum major of the high school marching band,but as the drum majors' heated competition turns to sizzling romance SessKag.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The story plot isn't mine! But owned by my favorite author: Jennifer Echols! You guys should read her teenage novels! She's so awesome!

A/N: I'm just using this as an escape route from my fanfics but I'll try my best to do my other novels at the same time.

Major Crush

Chapter 1

I could keep my expressionless drum major face on while I strode under the bleachers and around the stadium to the bathroom. But then I was going to bawl.

Six thousand people, almost half the town, came to every home game of the high school football team. Tonight they crowded the stadium for the first game of the season. They had expected the band to be as good as usual. Instead, it had been the worst half-time show ever to shatter a hot September night. And I'd been charge of it.

Me and the other drum major, Sesshomaru Taisho.

Sango knew exactly what I was doing. She handed her batons to another majorette and hurried close behind me.

The band always took third quarter off. So I had about half an hour to get myself together, with Sango's help before I had to be back in the stand to direct the band playing the fight song during fourth quarter.

I felt Sango's hand on my back, supporting me, as I stepped through the bathroom door. My eyes watered, my nose tickled. I was ready to let loose—

Unfortunately, about twenty girls from the band were in the bathroom ahead of me. Including Sesshomaru's girlfriend of the month, the Evil Twin.

You think it hurts your feelings that girls talk about you behind your back, until they tell you to your face. And they each wanted a turn. Every time, it started with "girlfriend" and ended with "bitch."

"Girlfriend, you think you're hot stuff, doctor's daughter. I like the nail through your nose, bitch."

"Girlfriend, you need to give it up. You call yourself the leader of the band. You only led us into sounding like crap, bitch."

Sango stepped in front of me, putting herself between me and them. She seemed nine feet tall. She was a lot more threatening dresses in her majorette leotard than I was dresses like a boy. But she pulled at her earring with one hand, so I knew she was stressing out.

"You voted for Kagome," she reminded them.

"_I _didn't vote for her," called a clarinet.

"Well, _somebody_ did."

"That's not what I heard," the Evil Twin said.

The Evil Twin was either Yura or Kagura Reardon—I wasn't sure which one and no one else seemed to know either. All we know for sure was that the twins were evil. Or, one of them was evil and the other just looked the same.

I assumed the one currently dissing me was the one dating Sesshomaru. Because she sure seemed to have it in for me.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded, walking forward to face her. I didn't understand what Sesshomaru saw in her besides heavy makeup, long hair, and enormous boobs. Maybe that was enough. "What do you mean, you heard nobody voted for me?"

"I mean, Mr. Onigumo quit his job in an awful big hurry, and right at the beginning of school. Maybe he had to leave because you _convinced_ him to count the votes in your favor, if you know what I mean."

My jaw dropped at the twin and her bad blue eyeliner. I couldn't quite get my brain around what she was saying. She wasn't really accusing me of having sex with the band director, was she? _So_ ridiculous. I was the world's least sexy sixteen-year-old. I mean, there's a reason my parents named me Kagome.

"That's disgusting," Sango said to the twin. "Only a whole like you would think that up." Sango really was disgusted, or she wouldn't have talked that way. Usually, she was above using words like "whore," calling people names, starting catfights in the bathroom—

"And _you_," the twin said to Sango. "Your daddy must have _bought_ your votes for majorette. I know Mr. Onigumo didn't want any of _that_.

I wasn't sure the twin meant this as a racist comment. But that's the way the Asian girls in the bathroom took it, and maybe they knew best. Previously they'd wanted to stuff me down the sink. Now they came at the twin to flush her down the toilet.

I took the opportunity to pull Sango toward the door. I could cry later.

Before we managed to leave, the twin turned back to Sango and made the mistake of touching her majorette tiara.

Sango whirled around with her claws out.

"Fight!" someone squealed. Several freshmen made it out the door, still shrieking.

I hadn't a witnessed a fight like this since a couple of girls got into it over a Ping-Pong game in seventh grade PE. And I was about to be the costar.

"Hey!" Sesshomaru boomed in his drum major command voice. His tall frame filled the doorway.

Sango and the twin stopped. There was a complete silence for two seconds at the shock of getting caught. Then everyone realized it was Sesshomaru, not a teacher, and screamed because there was a boy in the girl's bathroom.

Sesshomaru reached through the girls. I thought he was reaching for the twin to save her from herself. But his hand closed over _my_ wrist. I stumbled after him as he dragged me out of the bathroom and through the line at the concession stand, to a corner behind a concrete pillar that held up the stadium.

He let go of my wrist. "What. Were. You. _Doing?_"

I was gazing up at the world's most beautiful boy. Sesshomaru was a foot taller than me and had a golden tan, straight silver hair, and amber eyes fringed with silver thick lashes. And these were almost the first words he'd spoken to me since the band voted us both drum majors last May.

"Your girlfriend started it. Why don't you talk to _her_.

"My girlfriend isn't drum major."

"So?"

"So, it's bad enough that I have to be drum major with you. It's bad enough that the band sounded like crap tonight. But you are _not_ going to get in fights with people in the band. We have the same position. If _you_ stoop to that level, _I've_ stooped to that level. I'm not going to let you make me look irresponsible."

I had already known this was the way he felt about me. He'd tried his best during summer band camp to act like I didn't exist. Except when he spoke low to trombones and they muttered under their breath as I passed.

"You're not my boss," My voice rose. "You don't get to tell me what to do."

He leaned farther down toward me and hissed, "We are not going to yell at each other in public. Do you understand?"

"You are not going to get in my face and threaten me. Do _you_ understand?"

"Good job, drum majors," called some trumpets passing by. They gave us the thumbs-up and sarcastic smiles. "Teamwork—who needs it?"

Behind them, Sango waited for me against the wall, arms folded, tiara askew.

I turned my back on Sesshomaru. We weren't though with our discussion, but we weren't going to solve anything by trading insults. And I wanted to make sure all Sango's cubic zirconia were in place.

I was glad about the quasi-catfight. I was glad Sesshomaru had reprimanded me too. Now I was pissed with the band with Sesshoumaru, instead of mortified at myself for being such a bad drum major on my first try.

And it was nice to find out that Sesshomaru knew I existed, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Remember, the plot of this story is not mine, just in case you forgot and sue me.

Major Crush

Chapter 2

"I hate this town, I hate this town, I hate this town," Sango chanted for a few minutes after we sat down in the stands. I sent Hojo to fetch her makeup case from her car, knowing that makeup could distract her from anything. She would feel better when she was back to looking liker her usual self.

Hojo held up her mirror while she primped in the bleachers, since the bathroom was off-limits for the time being. She looked perfect again dolled up in her glittering majorette costume, hair sculpted and curled around her tiara, eyes smoky, maroon lipstick perfect. As if she hadn't been about to kick the Evil Twin's ass only five minutes before.

Hojo offered to brave the concession stand for us. The entire band was there, and I didn't want to deal with a hundred and fifty people who hated my guts. Twenty girls and one drum major had been anough.

Hojo galloped down the stairs, and Sango turned to me. "You look like death. Let me put some makeup on you for once."

I laughed, "I can't wear your makeup. I'd really look like death in your Rum Raisin lipstick."

Sango's dad and my dad were business partners, and we lived next door to each other. So even though she was a year older than me, we'd always been inseparable. That is, until I quit the beauty pageant circuit. We'd grown apart in the past couple of years. But I needed to be a good friend to her because I was her only good friend.

Everybody liked Sango, but nobody wanted to get close to her. She came from the richest Japanese family in time. Asians made fun of her and called her snooty when we were in grade school. On the other hand, her family was one of only three Japanese families in the country club on the lake that catered mostly to wealthy families vacationing from Montgomery or Birmingham. She didn't like to play tennis with me there because she thought people were looking at her funny.

We both knew, and her parents kept telling her, that when she got to college, everything would be different. She was smart and beautiful, and it wouldn't matter anymore that she was a rich Japanese girl from a tiny town in Japan. The only sad thing was that she wouldn't leave for college for another year. A year was a long, long time for her to tread water.

But Hojo had escaped already. He's just stared boarding at the State School for Fine Arts in Birmingham, and he was home for Labor Day weekend. I was happy for him, because his home life wasn't great—he lived with his mother in a bus at a campground. And because the State School for Fine Arts was one of the best high schools in Alabama.

I was also happy for me. I'd spent practically the whole summer hanging out with him while Sango was at pageants, and I'd missed him for the week he'd been gone. But it was also a relief; because I was pretty sure he liked me as more than a friend. Hojo was adorable, with big brown eyes and an interesting sense of fashion that he'd developed from having to shop at the Goodwill store. But he wasn't for me.

Maybe part of what we made so uncomfortable with him was that I understood completely how he'd developed a crush on me. I was a year older than he was, and I'd been his rum section leader in the band for the past year. He looked up to me. It was natural that he would have a crush on me.

Like I had one on Sesshomaru.

Sango leaned closer and said quietly, "You don't want him to know you're upset."

Then, like the dorks we were, we both turned around and looked at Sesshomaru, who sat with his dad at the top of the football stadium. Grouped on the rows between us and Sesshomaru, several trumpet players and saxophone players glared at me like they wanted me off the top railing. In fact, Sesshomaru and his dad probably would have been glad to help me over.

I felt a pang of jealousy. Sesshomaru was close to his dad. I could tell the conversation Sesshoumaru and his dad were having at the moment wasn't pleasant, but at least they were having one. I hardly talked to my dad anymore.

"Foul!" Hojo jeered at the game, startling me and making Sango jump on my other side. "Dom Perignon?" he asked in his normal voice as he slid onto the metal bench and handed a Coke to Sango and one to me.

I drained the Coke. The night was way too hot for a wool band uniform.

Hojo watched me. "I put Sesshomaru's band shoes back in his truck, like we found them."

"Thanks." Sesshomaru made me mad playing Mr. Perfect all the time. I had thought it would make me feel better to hide his lovingly polished band shoes so he had to wear his Vans with his band uniform. It hadn't.

"So, what happened in the halftime show?" Hojo asked. "It reminded me of the Alabama Symphony Orchestra, but not in a good way. You know before they start playing together, when they're tuning up."

Sango nodded. "There's a point in the majorette routine when I'm supposed to throw the baton on one and turn on two. I looked up at Sesshomaru and thought, _Is he on one? No, two_. And then I looked over at you, and you were on, like, thirty-seven."

I just shook my head. I was afraid that if I tried to talk right now, the pissed feeling would fade, the mortified feeling would come back, and I'd start bawling in front of the tuba players.

Hojo slid his arms around my waist, and Sango draped her arm around my shoulders from the other side. I tried to feel better, not just sweatier. They were the two best possible friends.

But instead of appreciating their support, I was thinking what a bizarre trio of misfits we must have made from Sesshomaru's high view. Sango, looking as glamorous as possible in her majorette uniform. And Hojo, a fifteen-year-old boy who'd finally made it out of the bus.

Someone slid onto the bench beside Hojo. Oh no, Miroku Houshi or one of Sesshomaru's other smart-ass trombone friends coming to rub it in. Or worse, the Evil Twin. I peered around Hojo.

It was the new band director, Mr.Yasha. Before I'd seen him today, I'd hoped that getting a new band director might help my predicament as queen band geek. Mr. Onigumo, who'd been band director for as long as I could remember had gotten us into this mess by deciding we'd have two drum majors this year.

Then, knowing he'd be leaving near the beginning of the school year anyway, he sleepwalked through summer band camp. He let Sesshomaru and me avoid working together. I couldn't imagine what the new band director would be like, but any change had to be for the better.

Or not. Mr. Yasha didn't seem like he was in any position to change the status quo. He was fresh out of college and looked it, maybe twenty-two years old. He could have passed for even younger because he was only about five foot six, the height of sophomore boys like Hojo who weren't fully grown. I mean, I was five two, and Sesshomaru was impressively tall. I thought made a huge difference in how the band treated us. I wondered how Mr. Yasha thought he could handle a hundred and fifty students.

I was about to find out.

"Amscray," Mr. Yasha growled at Hojo. Hojo leaped up and crossed behind me to sit on Sango's other side.

Mr. Yasha stared t me. Not the stare you give someone when you're starting a serious conversation. Worse than this. A deep, dark stare, his eyes locking with mine.

He meant to intimidate me. He wanted me to look away. But I stared right back. It felt defiant, and I wondered whether I could get suspended for insubordination just for staring.

I guess I passed the test. Finally he relaxed and asked, "What's your name?"

"Kagome Higurashi."

He nodded. "What's the other one's name?" He didn't specify "the other suck-o drum major," but I knew what he meant.

I shuddered. "Sesshomaru Taisho."

Hojo leaned around Sango. "His friends call him General Patton."

Sango laughed.

Mr. Yasha ignored them. He asked me, "What's with the punky look? You've got the only nose stud I've seen in this town."

"Would you believe she entered beauty pageants with me until two years ago?" Sango asked. Sango always rubbed this in.

"I developed an allergy to taffeta," I said.

"No, she didn't," Sango said. "On the first day of summer band camp in ninth grade, she walked by Sesshomaru in the trombone section. The trombones called her JonBenet Ramsey, and it was all over. She quit the majorettes and went back to drums."

"Is this true?" Hojo asked me.

"You think I was born with a stud in my nose?"

"And she stopped wearing shoes," Sango added.

Mr. Yasha eyed my band shoes.

"Well, I'm wearing shoes _now_," I said. "Of course I can't be out of uniform at a game."

"Of course not," Mr. Yasha said, looking my uniform up and down with distaste.

"More people might get their noses pierced if I started a club," I said. "Would you like to be our faculty sponsor?"

"And an attitude to match the nose stud," Mr. Yasha said. He leaned across me to point to Sango and Hojo. "You, princess. And you, frog. Beat it."

They scattered, leaving Mr. Yasha and me alone on the bench.

Mr. Yasha explained, "You learn in teacher training classed not to challenge students in front of other students, because all you get is lip."

"Did they tell you not to make fun of your students' appearance? I have a very right o wear a stud in my nose."

He laughed shortly. "I doubt that would stand up in court. Not in Alabama."

"Then I'm moving to Oregon."

He cocked his head and looked at me quizzically. "Come off the defensive, would you? I happen to agree with you. I'm just figuring out what's going on here." He glanced over his shoulder at Sesshomaru and his father at the top of the stands. "What's up with you and Taisho?"

"He was drum major by himself last year," I said. "Everybody knew he'd be drum major again this year. But Naraku was trying out against him. I wanted to be drum major next year, after Sesshomaru graduated. I figured I'd better go ahead and try out, just for show, so Naraku wouldn't have anything on me."

I looked down into my cup of ice. "I never thought I'd make it this year. A girl has never been drum major. And we've never had two drum majors. Mr. Onigumo decided after the vote that we'd have two this year, the two with the most votes, and that was Sesshomaru and me. I don't know what he was thinking." I made a face. "Though I'm pretty sure what Sesshoumaru's thinking."

"So a girl's never been a drum major," Mr. Yasha repeated slowly. "And all the flutes and clarinets are girls, and all the trombones are boys. Gotta love a small town steeped in tradition. Who needs this diversity crap?"

It bothered me, too, or I wouldn't have tried out for drum major. But it made me mad that Mr. Yasha would come here from the outside and attack my hometown. "Where did _you_ grow up?" I asked.

"Big Pine."

"Oh, like that's any better. Big Pine is just as small and just as backward as this place. Plus, the paper mills make it smell like last week's Filet-O-Fish." Actually, my town was so isolated to have a McDonald's, and Big Pine had one, which weekend my argument. I had very limited personal experience with the Filet-O-Fish.

"I'm really liking this lip," he said.

I knew I'd better back off.

"Which one of you got the most votes?" he asked.

"Mr. Onigumo wouldn't tell us."

Sango had a theory though. She thought I won, and Mr. Onigumo just didn't want me to be drum major by myself. I mean, he didn't even want to let a girl try out. My dad had to threaten to call the school board.

Sesshomaru had been a terrific drum major last year. He'd won all these awards. But Sango's theory was that the band thought he was stuck-up.

Before, when he was just a sophomore trombone, he cut up with the other trombones. They would let out a low "ooooooh, aaaaah" whenever Mr. Onigumo or the previous drum major, one of Sesshomaru's older brothers, said anything profound. Sesshomaru was happy-go-lucky. Everyone loved him. Especially the girls.

But as soon as he got drum major last year, he buttoned up. He hardly even laughed any more. Sango thought the band had gotten tired of it and voted him out. There was no way of knowing, when Mr. Onigumo wouldn't tell us who really won.

I went on, "Mr. Onigumo said that since we were both drum majors, it didn't matter who got more votes. He didn't want to generate bad blood between us." I smiled. "It worked.

Mr. Yasha rubbed his temple like he had a headache. "When's the last time you had a conversation with Taisho?"

"A conversation?"

"Yeah, you know. You talk, he talks, you communicate.

"We had an argument just now because, he sicced his girlfriend on me in the bathroom. Is that progress?"

He closed his eyes and rubbed his temple harder. "How about before that?"

"Communicate. Probably…" I had to think about this. "Never."

"Then how have you functioned at all? Even on your sad, limited level?"

I shrugged. "Mr. Onigumo would tell me where to go on the field, and then he would tell Sesshomaru where to go."

"I'm going to tell you both where to go," Mr. Yasha muttered. "You see me in my office before band practice when we come back to Tuesday. And I want to spend the long weekend contemplating how the two of you reek."

"I know," I whispered.

"If you performed that way at a contest, you'd get embarrassingly low marks. So would the band, because the two of you have them so confused. And the drums! Though I'm not sure the drums are your fault. I suspect they reek on their own merit."

He stood, looking down at me with a diabolical grin. "I'm so glad we've had this chat. To be fair, I'd give Taisho the same treatment, but it looks like someone's beat me to it."

I nodded. "his father and his two older brothers used to be drum majors."

"What? A legacy? The Taisho clan has drum major tied up like the Mafia?"

"It feels that way."

"I should have kept my job in Birmingham at Pizza Hut," Mr. Yasha grumbled as he stomped away.

I had to agree with this. Despite myself, I looked up one more time at Sesshomaru high in the stands. He and his father sat side by side in the same position, leaning forward, elbows on knees. The only difference was that Sesshomaru hung his head. Now Mr. Taisho pointed to Sesshomaru's Vans.

I imagined Mr. Taisho lecturing Sesshomaru in a Tony Soprano voice. "I'm counting on you to uphold the family name. I want you to off the broad. _Capisce?_"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Before you read, this is not my plot ok? Don't sue me???

Major Crush

Chapter 3

"You_are_a good drum major," Hojo said. "I mean, I assume you _could_ be. You haven't had a chance. But there's no reason for you _not_ to be a good drum major. You're musically talented. You're responsible. And besides, you look cute in your uniform pants."

I rolled my eyes. He made this kind of flirtatious comment more and more often lately. It made me so uncomfortable that I probably shouldn't have come over to the bus today. But my dad had the day off and was likely to organize some wretched family activity if I was around. Sango was at a pageant all weekend, as usual. And I needed to talk.

I inched farther away from Hojo on his bed, which he had cleared of difficult-looking books so we could sit down. Some of our friends referred to the bus as the Bookmobile because the walls were stacked like a library, giving Hojo and his mother even less space to move around.

The bus was divided into two rooms. The back room was Hojo's mom's bedroom. I don't know why she bothered. She was hardly ever home. In fact, in the entire past year that Hojo and I had been close friends, I'd probably laid eyes on her twice.

She was working on a PhD in psychology at Auburn University. This sounded impressive, like maybe they would move into a real house soon. Until you found out that she's been working on one psychology degree or another since Hojo was born and his dad left. And _then_ you heard that she partied with her friends and didn't always make it home from Auburn at night. You wondered why she didn't use some of this book-learning in psychology on _herself_. This was the one thing Hojo and I couldn't talk about, besides my dad. And Hojo's crush on me.

The front room of the bus was Hojo's room, the living room, and the kitchen combined. We sat on his bed because it doubled as the sofa. My old-fashioned mother had forbidden me to set foot in a boy's room or sit on a boy's bed. I had never checked with her to see how the rules changed when a boy lived in a bus. Normally, I would just shrug her warnings off, because I knew what I was doing. And it was only Hojo, after all.

The way he'd been acting lately, though, I was tempted to give him the trusty old "my mother won't let me go inside a boy's bus unchaperoned" excuse. I tried to ignore that he inched toward me as I inched away. At least I had my drumsticks in my lap. I could jab him if he inched an inch too far.

"I'm starting to think it has nothing to do with being musically talented or actually directing the band," I said. "Sesshomaru can direct the band, and I can direct the band. But what Sesshomaru can do that I _can't_ do is yell at people and make them jump. These girls in the bathroom reacted to me like I was one of them, or _below_ them, even. They reacted to Sesshomaru like he was in charge. _I'm_ supposed to be in charge, too. What's the matter with _me_?"

Hojo frowned at me and stared with his big brown eyes like he was really considering this question. While I waited for the big revelation, I noticed that his eyes exactly matched the brown leaves in the trees out the bus window behind him. He really was cute. I could totally see how I would be head over heels in love with him, if I were fourteen years old instead of sixteen.

I started tapping out a nervous rhythm on my knee with my drumsticks. I used to take my drumsticks with me everywhere because I wanted to practice constantly and be a better drummer. Now I took them with me because I felt naked without them.

Finally Hojo said, "You're not a screamer."

I stopped tapping. "Oh, for the love of-

"I'm serious. Sesshomaru hears a fight in the girls' bathroom and goes in to break it up. His first instinct is to yell. Well, let's say_you_ heard a fight in the _boys'_ bathroom, and _you_ broke it up. What would you do naturally if you could solve it your way?"

"I would run in the other direction. You really expect me to go in the boys' bathroom? Let them kill each other."

"You know that I mean. Hypothetically."

I'd been thinking a lot about what Mr. Yasha had said to me after he told Hojo and Sango to beat it so he could talk to me alone. _Don't challenge students in front of other students, because all you get is lip_.

"I'd pull each person to the side and talk to them one-on-one about what was going on," I said. "I'd act like if they would please back off, I would consider it a favor. And I really would. I mean, I know everybody in a band. Everybody in band is a friend of mine. Except for the Evil Twins, and anyone who happens to be calling me a bitch at the moment.

"For instance, Tonya, Paula, and Mich were in the bathroom. I've had almost every class with them for years. And still they didn't stand up for me. Mich brandished her flagpole at me like a Power Ranger. But they were caught up in the mob mentality and wanted blood. If Sesshomaru and Mr. Yasha let me, I'd always talk to people on a personal level rather than yelling at them, because that's how I function."

"Then that's what you should do," Hojo said. "You have to yell on the football field. But in rehearsal, you don't have to act like General Patton (Sesshomaru). Be yourself rather than trying to be a small, black-haired Sesshomaru, and you'll probably get better results.

This made sense, but it seemed too simple. "Can I do that? I've never heard of a drum major doing that."

"We've never had a girl drum major."

This took a few seconds to sink in. "_Hojo_," I said in awe.

"I know, I know," he said. "I know all about my own eye-hurting brilliance."

I waited for him to ruin it by suggesting some way I could _repay_ him for his eye-hurting brilliance. That's what he usually would have done. But he didn't.

"Hojo," I repeated, "you are so helpful. Except for the gross, horny, fifteen-year-old boy comments along the way."

"Hey. I am not gross."

"Thank you _so much_," I kept gushing. "See, that what I like so much about you. You're a boy, but it's like you're not. Talking serious with you is like talking to a girl."

I meant every word. But when I finished, I could tell from the look on his face that I should have edited my gushing.

"It's like I'm not a boy?"

I looked away from his angry brown eyes and started tapping my drumsticks again. "You know what I mean."

His voice rose. "Talking to me is like talking to a _girl_?"

"That's a compliment," I said weakly.

"You can't say stuff like that to me."

Still tapping, I tried to act casual and blow it off. "Yes, I can. We've always been able to say anything to each other." Almost.

"Not anymore," he said. "Get off the bus."

I stopped tapping. "What?"

"You heard me."

I wanted to poke him with my drumstick, to tease him back into his usual good mood. But his brown eyes were hard. I walked down what used to be the aisle, before the seats were removed to make room for stack of books, and opened the folding bus door with the lever. I padded down the steps to the dirt outside and turned around to see if he'd changed his mind yet.

He closed the door behind me.

I walked along the side of the bus, standing on tiptoes to peer in. It was dark inside compared to the sunny day, and I couldn't see. But the bus wasn't air-conditioned and all the windows were open to the breeze.

"Hojo," I called. When he didn't answer, I rapped on the inside of a window frame with my drumstick.

"Stop," he yelled over the racket. "You're being disrespectful of my home."

I stepped back and looked up at the bus doubtfully. Once upon a time, it had been a yellow school bus. But as Hojo told the story, when was twelve, he'd painted it brown in a futile attempt to make it look more like a house.

"When you remind me that you live in a sixty-room lakeside mansion," he exaggerated, "you're just making it harder on yourself."

I glanced through the trees at the sunlight glinting off the deep green water. "You live on the lake, too, Hojo."

"You know what I mean. I live in a bus in a campground on the lake. This is my mother's idea of permanent housing. I do not have my own private beach."

A squeak cut through the soft sound of wind in the trees as he opened the bus's emergency exit. He jumped to the ground with a towel draped over his shoulder. "Don't follow me," He said. "The public shower doesn't have a lock, and it's not fair. I couldn't follow you into your freaking boudoir." He walked down the hill toward the campground bathrooms, muttering about sixty-room houses and private beaches.

I wasn't naïve. I understand there was a money difference that made people uncomfortable with me. It was always there between Hojo and me, and almost any boy. For instance, today I wore ratty jeans and a faded t-shirt. Hojo wore ratty jeans and a faded t-shirt. We looked like twins, or at least like brother and sister. But I paid full-price for my clothes at Abercrombie and Fitch in the Birmingham Mall, and Hojo bought his at the thrift store.

But I wasn't going to let him get away with changing the subject. "Hojo, if you're mad at something I said, okay. Let's talk about it."

He didn't even slow down. He kept stalking away from me under the trees.

"Hojo, come on," I called. "You're going back to school tomorrow. I won't see you again for, what? Another two weeks?"

"If you're lucky," he yelled without turning around.

I wondered whether he meant I'd be lucky if he showed up again in two weeks, or I'd be lucky if he stayed away until then.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own the plot of this story.

Major Crush

Chapter 4

On Tuesday I begged my English teacher to let me out of class ten minutes early. When she gave me the nod, I bolted out the door and down the stairs to the lunchroom.

Mr. Yasha had told me to come to his office before band. That meant during my lunch period. Through long years on the pageant circuit, I was used to watching my weight, but I kept it down by jogging and by laying off the Doritos. I'd never skipped a meal in my life. And I didn't intend to start because of Sesshomaru Taisho. No matter _how_long his eyelashes were.

Seems Sesshomaru had the same idea. By the time I burst through the lunchroom doors, he already sat across the empty room, alone in the rows of tables and chairs, wolfing down a hamburger. He watched me as I dashed for the salad bar.

Usually I was picky, but today I grabbed a plate, piled it with lettuce, and spooned on whatever else was handy. I think this involved beets. I wasn't sure. It was red, whatever it was. I sat in the chair nearest the salad bar and shoveled it in without tasting it.

We faced each other across the rows, stuffing our faces, monitoring each other. There was no way I would let him beat me to that band room.

He made a move toward the doors like he was leaving, which made me start. You would think that I was coordinated enough to walk down a pageant runway in high heels, or to direct the band, I could shove a fork in my mouth and stand up at the same time. Apparently not. I lost my balance, my chair scraped out from under me, and I landed on the floor.

Sesshomaru half-stood as if he were coming to help me up.

Too slow. I jerked up my backpack of books and ran for the door. A lunchroom lady blocked my way because I didn't take my plate to the dishwasher. Hurdling chairs, I raced my to my table, scooped up the plate, and made for the dishwasher. Sesshomaru was already there. He passed me, heading out.

I followed him as he sprinted down the hall. The bell rang, and the hall flooded with people. They blocked his way. They blocked my way too, but I was smaller. I ducked between them.

Then came a lucky break for me. The vocational ed teacher caught Sesshomaru by the arm and lectured him on running in the hall._Shameful_, a responsible senior like himself. I blew right past them. I had a lead on him, but he would gain on me if we took the same route. I kicked of my flip-flops, stuffed them in my backpack, and took a shortcut outside the building.

"Ha," I puffed triumphantly as I sprinted barefoot through the cool grass. One for every step: "Ha ha ha ha ha!" I rounded the last corner of the building and heaved back on the heavy band room door. My eyes hadn't adjusted from the bright sunlight outside, but I dashed in the general direction of Mr. Yasha's office.. "Ha!" I shoved at the door.

The door said, "Ooof!"

The door gave way into the fluorescent-lit office, and I fell in with it. On top of Sesshomaru. Sesshomaru lay flat on his back on the floor, and I straddled him. We'd knocked sheets of music from a shelf as we fell. They fluttered down around us.

Mr. Yasha peered over his desk at us. "Ah, Taisho and Higurashi. Don't you knock?"

Without looking Sesshomaru in the eye, I backed off him and into one of the chairs in front of Mr. Yasha's desk. I could have held out a hand to help Sesshomaru up, but I didn't.

Sesshomaru pulled himself into the other chair and dusted himself off, glaring at me.

Mr. Yasha walked over, slammed the door, put his hand on my shoulder, and squeezed. "The first thing I want to know is what happened to this guy Onigumo. They wouldn't tell me shit at the job interview."

Right then I decided that Mr. Yasha was the coolest. It wasn't that he cussed. It was that he cussed in front of us. And trusted me not to complain to our parents, like he thought we were adults. Plus, he was coming to us for information about another teacher. I tried to recover, and answer, and act like nothing strange has happened.

Sesshomaru beat me to it. "He got fired."

"He didn't get fired," I corrected Sesshomaru, feeling superior because my information was better. "He quit."

"He got fired," Sesshomaru repeated, "because he was sleeping with Kagome."

"What!" Mr. Yasha exclaimed. He looked from Sesshomaru to me in outrage. "And I have the _door_ closed!" He stepped behind me to fling open the door. "That's the _first_ thing they teach you in education classes," he muttered. "Never touch your students. Never close the door while you're in conference with your students. I've been on the job one weekend and already I'm in trouble!"

I'd never seen a teacher throw a fir before wither, so normally this would have held my attention. But I was busy calculating the meaning of what Sesshomaru had said. So it wasn't just the Evil Twin making up stories about me. I wondered how far the story had traveled, and how long people had been repeating it.

Maybe I'd gotten over the initial shock when the twin first accused me in the bathroom of sleeping with Mr. Onigumo. It never occurred to me to get really alarmed, or even to defend myself. Anyone who knew me knew how ridiculous the idea was that I would trade my virginity for drum major votes.

Besides, my parents had put the fear of God in me. Or anyway, the fear of sperm. My dad and Sango's dad were ob-gyns. This meant that they were doctors who delivered babies and otherwise took care of women's—you know—parts.

This meant that after I was home sick from school, my mother would scribble an excuse for me on a pad printed with a cartoon uterus and the slogan of a menopause drug: "Just like the estrogen she used to make!"

It meant that boys asked me if they could be my father's apprentice.

It meant that dinner table conversation every night was about he fourteen-year-old girls who had come to the hospital that day to have their second babies (no offense), and the evils of teen pregnancy. Sometimes I wished my dad worked at the cotton mill like everybody else.

Finally I turned to Sesshomaru and said, "It's _irresponsible_ of you to start a rumor like that."

Score one for me. I was right on target with his responsibility fetish. He looked like I'd slapped him. Then he recovered enough to say—to Mr. Yasha, not me—"it's not a rumor. She did—

"Of course I didn't," I interrupted him calmly. "Mr. Onigumo is eighty years old.

"He's more like forty-five," Sesshomaru corrected me, as is this were going to sway the jury.

Sitting down at his desk, Mr. Yasha held up one hand for silence. "I don't know what you've been up to," he said to me. He turned to Sesshoumaru. "But I know you're acting like a jackass. If the rumor isn't true, you're irresponsible for spreading it. And it_is_ true, what do you think you're doing? _Tattling_ on her for having sex with a teacher?" He looked through some papers.

I felt redeemed. And then, the more I thought about it, not.

Sesshomaru took a deep breath. "Excuse me, but did you say—

"Jackass," Mr. Rush repeated without looking up. "Let's start again. What happened to Onigumo?"

"He quit," I said. "He'd been waiting for a position as a mail carrier for three years, and it finally came through last week."

"She," Sesshomaru said, pointing at me. "How does she _know_ that?"

"Because I _asked_ him," I said.

Mr. Yasha made a show of stacking his papers, turning them and stacking them on another said, and placing them just so on his desk. "Let me tell you what _I_know. I'm living in a town that's so small and remote, it doesn't have a McDonald's. I've taken a job that's so bad, the guy before me was dying to break out and start his stellar career as a mailman."

His calm voice rose. "I have seventh graders for breakfast, eighth graders for brunch. For lunch, I have a class of a hundred and fifty teenagers and no assistant. And the two people I was counting on to_help_ me are pretty and immature"—"and irresponsible!" He held up his hands on either side of his head and wiggled his fingers, like he knew irresponsibility was a scary monster for Sesshomaru.

Now he rubbed his temple like he did while talking to me Friday night, as if we were giving him a headache. "Kids, I'm going to have to insist that you cut the crap and help me out. I can't do this job by myself. I may have had a little argument with the football coach at the faculty meeting on Friday."

"Wasn't that your first day?" Sesshomaru asked.

Mr. Yasha winced. "Okay, but that guy is an ass. He may have told me that the band needs to stop trampling 'his' football field"—he moved his fingers in quotation marks—"because it's turning the grass brown. I may have told him where to go. I found out after the meeting that the football coach is quite close with the principal.

"My contract runs out next summer. I need some leverage when it comes time to renew, or it's back to Pizza Hut for me. And tempting as that sounds right now; I have student loans to pay off." He shuffled through papers again and looked at some notes. "The two of you got the most votes in this drum major election, but there was a third candidate, right?"

"Naraku," Sesshomaru and I said together.

"Great. The two of you start getting along. You're dividing the band like East Coast-West Coast, Tupac and Notorious B.I.G. Clean up your act. Make nice with each other. Make sure the band gets high marks at the contest in three weeks, or I'll fire both of you and make Naraku drum major. Got it?"

This couldn't be. I ventured, "Have you _seen_Naraku?"

"Plays trumpet?" Mr. Yasha asked. "Looks like he eats paste?"

_You can't do that_, I thought. All the work I'd put into trying out. All the plans I had. I'd wanted to be the first girl drum major, wanted it worse than anything, for so long. But of course Mr. Yasha could do whatever he wanted, because he was the band director.

Now I didn't think he was the coolest anymore. I thought something else entirely.

"You can't do that," Sesshomaru said.

"You're going to college, right?" Mr. Yasha asked.

"God willing," Sesshomaru said dryly.

"Need a teacher recommendation? I can give you one, Play nice with Higurashi, and you know what it will say? 'Works well with other.' Don't play nice with Higurashi, and it will say 'Fired.'"

"I have another idea," Sesshomaru said, taking charge again. "Last year I was drum major by myself. We went to three contests. I made high marks at all three, and I won best drum major at two of them. The band did great too. And Kagome"—gestured to me without looking at me, like I was one of the filing cabinets lining the walls— "was the section leader of the drums when she was only a sophomore. The drums are so bad now because she and Hojo left."

"Who's Hojo?" Mr. Yasha demanded.

"The frog from Friday night," I told him.

"Kagome's boyfriend," Sesshomaru said.

"He's not my boyfriend," I said.

Sesshomaru finished, "So why don't we just go back to doing what we did last year, which worked?"

Mr. Yasha stared at Drew. It was the _I dare you_ stare he'd given me Friday night. Sesshomaru shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Part of me wanted him to hold the stare. Part of me wanted him to look away.

He didn't look away.

Finally Mr. Yasha said, "I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you, Taisho? No dice. But I do agree that Higurashi should work with the drums. That would help the sound of the whole band. And it's not my forte. I flunked percussion in college.

"How did you graduate?" I asked.

"It's called a grade point average," he said self-righteously. "An F in percussion is canceled out by an A-plus in oboe."

I nodded. "So now I'm assistant drum major."

"No."

"I'm percussion drum major."

"No. We're making the best use of your talents." He turned to Sesshomaru. "Is she always this suspicious?"

"I wouldn't know," Sesshomaru said.

I was relieved Mr. Yasha didn't take Sesshomaru's advice and toss me out on my butt. But I worried about making nice with Sesshomaru. We'd been Tupac and Notorious B.IG. all through band camp (and I hoped I was Tupac).

Mr. Yasha drew a line through an item in his notes, then tapped his pen on the page. "Now, Higurashi. Can you tell me why you made that particular choice of drum major uniform?"

I shrugged. "Because that's what Sesshoumaru wears. That's what he wore last year."

"Sesshoumaru is a boy," Mr. Yasha pointed out.

"Well, I don't know about _that_," Sesshomaru said.

Mr. Yasha rolled his eyes. "Spare me the manly macho crap, Taisho." He turned back to me. "Taisho is a 'man,"—he moved his fingers in quotation marks again—"and you're a 'woman,' and you need to stop trying to look like a 'man.' Trade in your pants for a miniskirt. Find some of those knee-high boots."

I remembered what Hojo had told me at the bus: _Be yourself rather than trying to be a small, black-haired Sesshomaru._But the outfit Mr. Yasha suggested wasn't exactly the look I was going for either. "You want me to wear a miniskirt and long boots?" I asked him incredulously. "If I wasn't a slut before, I'm going to look like one now."

"I have news for you, missy. Your friend the princess is strutting around the football field in a sequin-covered bathing suit."

"Kagome knows," Sesshomaru chimed in. "She was a majorette herself, for about two days."

"Oh, that's right," said Mr. Yasha. "And you made some JonBenet Ramsey crack, Taisho, and she went off and got her nose pierced."

"What?" Sesshomaru looked at me in shock.

"That's not why I quit the majorettes," I told Sesshomaru. "I mean, that wasn't the only reason." I turned to Mr. Rush. "I'll probably get expelled for saying this, but you're a real—

Sesshomaru slapped his hand over my mouth. "Don't fall for it," he told me, watching Mr. Yasha. "Remember he's trying to get rid of us."

I stared wide-eyed at Sesshomaru. Besides trying to pull my arm off in the bathroom Friday night, it was the first time he'd ever touched me. This close, he was so foxy that he almost gave me the shivers. Clarinets swooned over him. But I made it a point not to swoon over anybody, ever. Especially not somebody who'd just accused me of prostituting myself to an eighty-year-old.

Then Sesshomaru realized what he'd done. He snatched his hand away.

Mr. Yasha put his chin in his hand and gazed at us, looking bored. "Here's the thing, Higurashi. You're a pretty girl." He turned to Sesshomaru. "Can I say that as her teacher, or is it sexual harassment?"

"You're on the line."

"Then you tell her," Mr. Yasha said. "Don't you think she's a pretty girl?"

Sesshomaru looked at me and seemed to be studying me. I could feel myself turning red. Finally he said, "She's mean."

"Me!" I squealed. "What about—

Mr. Yasha held up his hand for me to shut up. "But is she pretty?" he asked Sesshomaru again.

"I have a girlfriend," Sesshomaru said.

"I'm not asking you to take her to the _prom_." Mr. Yasha said, his voice rising again. "I'm asking you if you think she's _pretty_."

"Yes," Sesshomaru exhaled, not looking at me. I was relieved to see that _he_ was turning red too.

"Prettier than you?" Mr. Yasha asked.

Sesshomaru admitted. "Yes."

"And after Friday night's debacle, don't you think we should use any means available to interest the audience and improve morale in the band?"

"Yes."

"And to that end, don't you think her uniform is inappropriate?"

Sesshomaru turned to me. "The trombones call you Mini-ME."

I said, "The trombones can shove it up their—

Mr. Yasha held up his hand for me to hush again. He repeated, "Get some boots and a skirt. Short. But not too short, do you understand me? I don't want to get arrested. Can you do that by Friday?"

I nodded. I would put my mom on the case. She could order something from a band uniform store online and have it overnighted. She'd be thrilled for me to show some leg again.

Sesshomaru asked, "While you're at it, can you make her wear shoes during band practice?"

"I think it's cute that she doesn't wear shoes," Mr. Yasha said. "Oh, my God, did I just say that?" Shaking his head, he drew another line through his notes.

Next item. "And what's with your military salute at the beginning of the show?" he demanded. "This ain't the army. Spice it up a little." He pointed at Sesshomaru. "Dip her, like in tango. Work on that in practice today while I try to undo whatever damage you've done to my marching band."

You don't have to dance," Mr. Yasha said. "Just for this one move. Sex sells. Throw the audience a bone."

Sesshomaru opened his eyes and folded his arms. "I don't think I can do that."

Mr. Yasha said, "Higurashi, do me a favor, would you? Lean out the door and ask Naraku to come in here."

"All_right_!" Sesshomaru bent down and banged his head on MR. Yasha's desk. Voice hallow against the metal, he said, "This was so much easier last year."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Yes, I'm back! Thanks for the reviews guys!!! Oh and thanks for Jinchiangel for pointing out name mistakes 'cause as I said this fic is not an original work of mine.

Disclaimer: This is NOT a fanfic of mine. This fic is by Jennifer Echols.

Major Crush

Chapter 5

When Mr. Yasha finally let us go, I jumped out the door of his office and ran to tell Sango the news that I had become a boots-wearing hussy of a drum major who seduced elderly men.

"Higurashi," Sesshoumaru called after me.

I didn't stop. The tile was cold on my bare feet.

I heard him speed up behind me. He caught up in two strides and touched my elbow once, lightly.

"Kagome," he said.

I stopped and looked up at him.

"Since we're supposed to be friends, ride up to the stadium in the truck with me. Please."

I glanced back toward Mr. Yasha's office. He stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips, glowering at me, sending me a telepathic message: _Remember the Pizza Hut_.

"Alright," I muttered.

Sesshoumaru always parked his dad's farm truck in the band room driveway like he owned the place. Boys in the band had already dumped the daily load of hay bales and farm implements—scythes or whatever—out onto the grass.

A line of boys stretched from the truck through the band room and into the instrument storage room. They tossed drums and the biggest instrument cases all along the line to land in the truck bed so Sesshoumaru could drive them up to the football stadium for practice. I stepped forward to join the brigade.

And promptly got hit in the chest with a bass drum. I nearly fell with it, which would have made three times in one hour, a record even for me.

"Girl in the line," a boy murmured. Another said in falsetto, "Mini-Me."

I managed to hand off the bass drum just in time to get crushed by a tuba case. This time I smacked onto the cold floor with the huge black case on top of me.

"Oooooh, aaaaaah," said the line.

_Sesshoumaru _didn't say it. But Sesshoumaru and the other trombones has started the Oooooh, aaaaaah to make fun of one of Sesshoumaru's brothers when he was drum major. It hurt like Sesshoumaru was saying it to me.

Sesshoumaru lifted the case off me with one hand and swung it by the handle back into the line. Then he helped me up. He cupped his hand to my ear and whispered, "I told you to ride with me in the truck. I didn't tell you to _load_ the truck. That case was bigger than you are."

"You didn't _tell_ me to do anything," I said, not bothering to keep it quiet. "You asked me nicely. When you start _telling_ me to do things, that's when--"

He glared at me, reminding me that I was about to get us fired. I glanced over his shoulder at Mr. Yasha, who lurked, arms folded.

"That's when I'll go wait in the truck," I said, forcing a smile.

I climbed up into the enormous cab and slammed the door. Sango passed by with the majorettes just then. She did a double take when she saw me in Sesshoumaru' truck. I could tell she was asking the other majorettes to wait for her, and I rolled down the window.

"How'd it go?" she asked. But then she saw the look on my face, and she understood_exactly_ how it went. "That bad?"

"Sesshoumaru told Mr. Yasha that I spread my legs for Mr. Onigumo so he'd make me drum major."

"Busy girl. You're getting a lot of that lately."

"I know it." Maybe someone's trying to tell me something. My nightly sexual escapades are catching up with me."

"_Really_," said a passing drummer in mock shock. Another put his hand up to his cheek, with his pinky and his thumb stuck out, and mouthed, "Call me."

I watched them walk up the hill toward the stadium. "Oh, and Mr. Yasha doesn't like a trapeze artist."

Sango was not the logical person to complain to about strange outfits. She wore three-inch heels with her holey jeans. She always wore heels so she would be used to wearing them and wouldn't look uncomfortable in them onstage at pageants.

Sesshoumaru slid into the driver's seat of the truck and called across me, "Hello, Sango." They were both seniors and had all the AP classes together.

"Hello, Flying Frogini," she said.

Sesshoumaru looked perplexed. He looked cute when perplexed. A cute, perplexed ass. "Pardon?"

"Mr. Yasha wants me to dress like a trapeze artist," I explained.

He pursed his lips to hold in a laugh. "I was going to say. I've been called a lot names since Friday night, but that's a new one on me."

"Well," Sango said through a tight pageant smile. "I guess I'll leave you two alone in his truck. Against my better judgement." She went back to the majorettes, and I rolled up my window.

I could hear the noise of the band clustered in the driveway. The flirted with one another or warmed up on their saxophones. But the closed doors and windows of the truck muffled the sound. It was almost like Sesshoumaru and I were alone together, for the first time ever.

Except that a _thunk_ shook the truck every time an instrument case landed in the bed.

"I guess we should make a pact to be nice to each other," he said. "Or pretend to."

_Thunk_.

"The only pact I want to make with you is that we don't compete with each other at meals," I said. "I have no idea what I ate for lunch."

_Thunk_.

He felt under the driver's seat and handed me a crumpled bag of peanuts. Then he found a bottle of water for me and one for himself. "I'm trying to be nice to you," he said.

_Thunk._

I swallowed an enormous handful of peanuts and washed it down with a big swig of water. "Being nice to me for five minutes does not make up for pretending I didn't exist all through band camp. Or for telling the new band director that I screwed the old band director. Is that rumor really going around the band?" I doubted this. Sango would have heard it and told me.

"Not around the whole band. Around the trombones. I think my girlfriend may have started it.

"I never would have suspected," I muttered. "Do you realize how irresponsible it was of you to even mention it to Mr. Yasha?"

Sesshoumaru gaped when I said the I-word, and he didn't even blink at the next _thunk_. "No one believes it, Kagome. It's a joke. Mr. Yasha didn't believe me."

"What id he had? What if he'd told the principal? What if it had gotten back to Mr. Onigumo's wife? Did you think about that?"

_Thunk._

"I was mad at you," he said softly. "I shouldn't have done it."

"The next time I'm mad you, I'll tell everyone that that you had sex with Mrs. Kaede down in home ec."

He put a hand to his mouth like I'd suggested some unspeakable horror.

_Thunk._

"You see how it feels?" I asked. "No, never mind. I don't think you can. It's different for a girl. I'm in a position of authority, which was always a boy's position before this, and you want everyone to think that if I'm in charge, I must have slept with someone to get there.

I could possibly have been elected drum major by the people in the band. They couldn't possibly think I might do a good job. They couldn't possibly be tired of you acting like you're too cool to talk to anybody, unless you're hanging out with the trombones or picking which flute to date this week."

_Thunk_.

"You have to act cool," he said. "Otherwise, people won't do what you tell them."

"_I_ don't act that way, and they do what _I_ tell them. Sometimes."

"People expect something different from you. You're a girl."

I'd gotten used to the _thunk_, but we both jumped at the _knock-knock-knock_. Yura or Kagura Reardon rapped with her knuckles at ear level on Sesshoumaru's window. The shadow of evil descended over the truck.

The Evil Twins had earned their name through a long list of horrors. When they were only four years old, one or both of them had tried to close their neighborhood playmates in the automatic garage door. In middle school one or both of them had peeled somebody's fingers back until he fell out of a tree and broke his arm. Nobody was allowed to climb the big, tempting trees at school after that. Just this summer one or both of them had single-handedly (or double-handedly) broken up three couples, including a couple that dated forever, One or both of them probably would have done more damage if Sesshoumaru hadn't picked this opportune time to decide that one or both of them were the girl(s) of his dreams.

That was just the stuff I'd heard about. They were a year older then me, in Sesshoumaru's class. So until Friday night in the bathroom, I hadn't been privy to their day-to-day heinousness. Here was my second introduction. Sesshoumaru cranked his window open, and she was screaming at him before the glass was all the way down.

"We're talking about drum major business," he told her camly.

She explained, at a higher volume than necessary, that my presence in the farm truck bothered her. You would think he would ditch this loud parody of womanhood. Her eyebrows were overplucked, and her heavy blue eyeliner practically glowed. But sometimes boys liked that look. I guess.

"I'm giving her a ride to the stadium," he replied. "I'll see you p there." She still screeched, but he rolled up the window anyway, started the engine, and eased the truck out of the driveway and onto the road around the school.

Out the back window, I watched her watching us go. I knew she wasn't done with Sesshoumaru—or me. "Can't you do something to shut that off?" I asked him.

"You're not supposed to yell at girls."

"Says who?"

"My dad."

Ah, Southern chivalry. Boys down here still pull out your chair out for you and pick up your books if you drop them. The chivalry only goes so far, though. I've tested it. If you point out to them that your status as a female dies not make you any less capable of opening a door all by yourself, they'll ask if you're PMSing. And hold the door open for you anyway.

The truck bashed over a curb and onto the grassy hill up to the stadium. The instrument cases, the peanuts, and I went airborne.

"Sorry," Sesshoumaru murmured when we landed with a crash. "Look, I'm sorry for everything. I had no idea until the meeting with Mr. Yasha—" He stopped and glanced over at me, then wisely turned forward again and steered the truck before we hit the stadium bleachers.

"I'm sorry for the JonBenet comment two years ago," he went on. "I remember thinking it was funny that you changed after that. But I never made the connection. We stand over there in the trombone section and basically foam at the mouth. We don't mean anything by it.

"That's not exactly how it went down. That's what Sango told Mr. Yasha, and she may believe it. But you're flattering yourself if you think your opinion matters to me," I lied.

He stopped the brakes, and the truck spun to a halt in the dust. The rest of the badn had hiked up the hill from the school. Boys jumped into the bed of the truck and slid the instrument cases out, or peered through the back window of the cab and put their lips to the glass.

"I have an idea for the dip Mr. Yasha wants us to do," Drew said. "We can ask Koga to help us. He took ballroom dance lessons with his grandmother at the junior college."

I laughed. "You're kidding."

"I swear. We spent all last year giving him hell about it."

I thought it was a good idea. But I wasn't going to tell Sesshoumaru that. I took a long sip of water.

"I'm trying to be nice to you," he repeated. He gripped the steering wheel hard, looking away from me, barely controlling his temper. I could tell it was a good thing his daddy didn't let him yell at girls. "Wouldn't you rather suffer through being drum major with me than let Naraku have it all?"

The sliding noises in the bed stopped, and the dist settled around the truck. The majorettes paraded in front of us on their way to the field. Sango gave me a look that said _Hey, how's it going with the boy you have a crush on who happens to hate you_?

Behind the majorettes, both twins eyed me while talking behind their hands to their friends. I was definitely in trouble.

"Well?" Sesshoumaru prompted.

"I'm waiting for you to come around the truck and open the door for me."

He rolled his eyes, cussed, and bailed out of the truck, slamming the door behind him. But by the time he reached the passenger side, he had a fake smile plastered to his face. He opened the door and extended his hand to help me out.

"Yes," I said as I stepped primly to the ground, the dust soft on my bare feet. "I'd rather be drum major with you than not be drum major at all. I'll pretend to be nice to you so I don't get fired. But don't expect me to be your friend."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own the plot of this fanfic and neither is Inuyasha and the other characters.

Major Crush

Chapter 6

Sesshoumaru caught Koga as he passed the truck, and talked quietly to him.

"You're going to do_what?_" Koga exclaimed.

Sesshoumaru continued talking while Koga looked me up and down.

"The Evil Twin is going to be _so pissed_ at you," Koga told Sesshoumaru. "I shouldn't help you anyways. You owe me an apology for an entire year of senior citizen jokes."

"I'm sorry," Sesshoumaru said.

Koga still pouted. "The trombones better not send me a card on Grandparents Day again this year."

"Sesshoumaru's sorry, Koga," I called. "We need your help. It's for the good of the band."

Koga looked up at me again. "Okay," he said so quickly that I was a little alarmed. Ever since school started last week, I'd had a feeling he was interested in me. Nothing big—I'd just caught him looking at me in band practice a few times when I wasn't directing. But I really couldn't tell. No one ever asked me out. And he certainly wasn't making nonstop sex jokes like Hojo. I had shrugged it off as a figment of my imagination. Now I hope he wasn't getting excited about being close to me as he helped us figure out this dance move.

Koga was good-looking, I guess. A couple of girls in my algebra class were into him. One of them actually _stole his first-place math tournament ribbon off the bulletin board and slept with it under her pillow_. This made me fell better about my own crush on Sesshoumaru, and my sanity. And Hojo's.

Personally, I didn't see what these girls saw in Koga. His clothes were too neat and his hair was too long. Very proper. He was too wholesome for my taste. Which I suppose didn't say a whole lot for _me_.

We walked through the stadium gate and found a place off to the side where the stands hid us from the band on the field. Koga was starting to explain something to me about the dip when Mr. Yasha burst through the gate, cussing to himself.

He stopped just long enough to holler at us. "Fred. Ginger. Out on the field. Play nice in full view."

Sesshoumaru and I looked at each other. I mean, we shared a look. Us against Mr. Yasha.

The zap of electricity that this look sent through me was devastating. Sesshoumaru and I had_shared a look_. Now we were friends, or could be. Except that I'd just told him we couldn't be.

Still tingling with the power surge, I walked beside Sesshoumaru and Koga through an opening in the bleachers and over to the end zone. The band was centered near the fifty-yard line, and Mr. Yasha took them through some warm-up scales, but heads kept turning our way. Freshman flutes. Sango. Kagura/Yura.

Sesshoumaru leaned against the goalpost with his arms folded while Koga showed me the dip. "I'm going to put my hand here and my leg there," Koga told me.

I did not like his hand_there_ or his leg _there_. I vowed to be the best dipee ever so he wouldn't have to show me this twice. "What do I do?"

"Just relax and let me do everything."

"That's not my usual styyyyle—"

I was hanging upside down, with Koga's face close to mine.

To avoid looking at Koga, I quickly turned to upside down Sesshoumaru. "I need a rose between my teeth, or some castanets. What do you think?"

"I think I should have gone out for football," Sesshoumaru said.

"Try it. You'll like it," Koga said. Before I could inquire what exactly he meant by _that_, he pulled me up standing. He pulled too hard, then had to keep me from falling with a grip on my arm. "Whoops-a-daisy. You're a lot lighter than my grandma."

Sesshomaru walked over, shaking his head, and Sesshoumaru explained what he should do. Boys can't lay a hand on each other unless it's violent, because they think they'll get cooties. So the explanation of the dip took a lot longer and was much more complicated than necessary. They talked about it in the abstract like it was an algebra problem. I was not at_all_ sure that Sesshoumaru got it.

While Koga watched, Sesshomaru came close to me and put his hand _there_ and his leg_there_. "This feels so awkward," he said. He turned to Koga. "Are you sure?"\

Koga twirled his finger in the air.

Sesshoumaru flipped me backward and lost his hold on me. I landed square on the powdery white goal line. A smattering of applause drifted across the field from the band.

"Touchdown," Sesshoumaru said. "You only need one foot in the end zone." He held out his hand.

As he hauled me out, I said, "That's the fourth time I've fallen on my butt today, and in some way you've caused all four."

He pretended to count on his fingers, which almost made me laugh. Then he started doing math in the air with an imaginary pencil, which _did_ make me laugh.

Koga looked from Sesshoumaru to me and back to Sesshoumaru. "Are y'all getting along or not?"

"Of course," Sesshoumaru said.

"Perfectly," I said, dusting my butt.

Sesshoumaru and Koga started toward me.

"That's okay," I said. In a move that I never would have fathomed myself needing to do, I put up both hands to jeep two senior boys from touching my butt.

In truth, I probably would have been able to stand Sesshomaru my butt. Koga, not so much.

"Let's try it again," Sesshoumaru said.

"Great," I said. "We might as well try it with _me_ on top."

Koga's eyes flew wide open. I realized what I'd said, and steeled myself for Sesshoumaru's comment about liking it when the girl was on top.

Sesshoumaru was not Hojo. He just laughed. "I weigh a hundred and ninety pounds. But yeah, let's try it."

"I weigh one-ten. Let's not."

He put his hand _there_ and his leg _there_. He flipped me backward even faster this time, and immediately lost his balance. But he didn't lose his hold on me. He fell with me. On top of me. Hard.

I couldn't breathe. Oh, God, I couldn't breathe.

He took his weight off me but hovered close over me. "Inhale," he said.

I held up five fingers.

"I know. I'm glad we're not going to the prom together.

Koga leaned over me. "You've killed her."

"She's tough," Sesshoumaru said.

Mr. Yasha's face appeared beside Koga's. "Are you okay?" he asked me with genuine concern.

I nodded and gasped, forcing air into my lungs painfully.

"I just knocked the wind out of her," Sesshoumaru said.

Mr. Yasha slapped Sesshoumaru on the back of the head. "You pay attention, Taisho. There'll be hell to pay if you hurt my drum major. I'll have Naraku out in the middle of the football field, doing the cancan."

"The cancan is surprisingly difficult," Koga said. "It takes a lot more coordination than Naraku has."

Mr. Yasha gave Koga the brain-melting stare.

Koga shrank. "I know this because I played Little League baseball with Naraku."

Mr. Yasha kept staring.

"Sir," Koga added. He looked to Sesshoumaru for help.

Sesshoumaru rubbed the back of his head. "Thank you for your guidance, sir."

"Smart-ass," Mr. Yasha said to Sesshoumaru. He stalked away.

I croaked, "I don't like this game."

Sesshoumaru held out his hand to me and hauled me up again. Across the field the band cheered like I was an injured football player who'd just recovered.

Koga stared at my hand in Sesshoumaru's. It _did_ seem like Sesshoumaru held my hand longer than he had to before he dropped it. But then Koga said, "I know what the problem is. Sesshoumaru, you're left-handed."

"So?"

"So, you need to turn everything around the other way, a mirror image of what you've been doing."

Without warning, Sesshoumaru grabbed me.

"I said I don't want to play this gaaaame," I said, but suddenly he had me leaning backward, just like Koga had. I wasn't about to fall down, and he wasn't to fall on top of me.

His dark eyes were so close to me, I could almost feel his eyelashes brush my face as he blinked.

"That wasn't too painful," he said. And I did feel his breathe on my cheek.

Oh, _wow_. I wished we could stay this way forever. Okay, he would probably get a cramp eventually. But I wished he would keep holding me, looking down into my eyes as if he really enjoyed touching me.

At the same time, in the back of my mind, I knew I should say something so he wouldn't think I'd been brain damaged in our fall. Finally I managed, "Easy for you to say. You didn't get the life crushed out of you by Notorious B.I.G."

He pulled me up and set me back on my feet. Then he whirled around, grabbed me, and dipped me again, like he was practicing getting his pistol out of his holster fast for a gunfight.

"Oooooh, aaaaaaah," floated across the field from the band.

"By George, I think you've got it," Koga said.

Sesshoumaru ignored Koga at first. His dark eyes seemed to search my eyes for something.

Then he pulled me up to standing. "Thanks, Koga," he said. "I think we're good to try it on our own. Grandparents day is right around the corner, and we'll get you something special."

I understood that Sesshoumaru was dismissing Koga like he's dismissed Mr. Yasha. Koga did not seem to understand this.

Koga asked Sesshoumaru, "So, what are you and the twin doing Saturday night?"

Sesshoumaru dropped my hand. _Poof_, there went our romantic interlude. Thanks, Koga, my ass!

"I hadn't thought about it," Sesshoumaru said. "I guess we might park in front of the furniture rental store and watch TV."

This seemed pretty uncreative of Sesshoumaru. Sure, the movie theater had only two movies at a time to choose from instead of fourteen like the theaters in big cities, but we did _have_ a movie theater. And there was always the bowling alley.

I tried to catch his eye to give him a questioning look. No luck. He stared off toward the press box at the top of the stadium. Which was weird in itself. Sesshoumaru always looked people in the eye. It was part of his drum major intimidation routine.

It occurred to me that maybe he'd made up this date for my benefit. It was bad that he and the twin were parking in public, where down-and-dirty necking would be highly unlikely. Was he trying to tell me he wasn't serious about the twin, and there was hope for me?

Oh, good Lord. I was such a dork. He wasn't going to ask me out. He didn't like me that way. We weren't even friends. I'd made sure of that with my stupid comment when I got out of the truck.

"What about you, Kagome?" Koga asked without missing a beat, as if he hadn't even_heard_ Sesshoumaru, mush less found his date plans bizarre. "What are you doing Saturday night?"

I was half-second from blurting out the truth. Hojo wasn't coming home for the weekend—and anyway, I figured he was still mad at me, because he hadn't called. Ango was competing in a pageant. So, I planned a solo par-tay of practicing my drums, watching MTV, and then reading until two o'clock in the morning. When I relayed my schedule to Koga, I would edit out the part where I invented an excuse to drive into town for a few minutes and cruise by the Rent 2 Own Store, checking for farm trucks.

I stopped myself just before blurting. If Sesshoumaru was parking with the twin at the Rent 2 Own Store, I didn't want to let on that I was hanging out at home, alone. Anyone could guess this, but I didn't have to _admit_ it.

Then I saw Sesshoumaru's dark eyes detach themselves from the press box and focus on me. Then flick to Koga and back to me. And I knew my instincts had been right about Koga liking me. Koga was about to ask me out.

My mind went into overdrive. An excuse. Where was my excuse? I could use Sango as an alibi. But what if Koga had already found out casually from Sango that she didn't have plans with me? I knew the thing to do was be firm, stand my ground, and turn him down nicely. But I didn't know how to do that.

Besides, Sesshoumaru was standing there. I thought he might politely leave us alone for a minute. Then I could turn Koga down. Koga would still be mad, but at least I wouldn't embarrass the crap out of him and give the trombones something else to make fun of him about.

Sesshoumaru said, "She's dating Hojo."

"You _are_? Koga asked, eyes wide again.

_I am?_ I thought.

"I didn't know that," Koga said. "I knew you were friends with him, but…Isn't he a year younger than you?"

I nodded.

Koga plucked his trombone from the grass. "Okay, then. Y'all have fun. Break a leg." he jogged across the field to the rest of the band.

Sesshoumaru turned to me and smiled. "You're welcome. Now, let's practice the dip a few more times so I can really get the feel of you."

We stared at each other.

"That's not what I meant." He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. "Every word out of my mouth this afternoon—"

"I know. Me too." I laughed so he wouldn't feel so self-conscious. Which was kind of hard to do, when I was more self-aware than I'd even been in my life.

He opened those beautiful dark amber eyes and grinned at me. "You know what I mean."

Oh, yeah. "I know what you mean." I just wished he really meant it the other way.

He put his hand _there_ and his leg _there_—gently this time. He dipped me slowly, with control. Holding me steady, he shifted his hands a little. If I didn't know better, I would have said he _did_ enjoy touching me, after all.

"I'm not dating Hojo," I breathed.

"I know you're not," he said, his lips close to my lips. "I was just trying to get you out of dating Koga. That _is_ what you wanted, isn't it?"

I struggled until he set me on my feet. "Then why'd you tell Mr. Yasha in his office that I was dating Hojo?"

"Oh. That was just to make you mad. You know, before we suddenly became chums." He nudged me on one shoulder with his fist, chumly. "You didn't want to go out with Koga, did you?"

"No, I said emphatically. "And I didn't want to hurt his feelings. But I also didn't want to lie to him. It seems underhanded."

Sesshoumaru shrugged. "Then why didn't you say something?"

"I was too stunned by your rude interruption."

"Oh, come on." He put his hands on me and dipped me slowly, gently. "Koga only asked you out in front of me so you couldn't say no. He knew you wouldn't want to embarrass him. One underhanded trick deserves another."

"But it's going to get around the whole school that I'm dating Hojo. What if I wanted to go out with someone else?" Too late I realized that I probably sounded like I wanted to out with Sesshoumaru.

Which I did.

"What if you did?" he asked evenly, holding my gaze with his eyes.

"Then he wouldn't ask me out now."

Sesshoumaru smiled. "Maybe he would."

I wanted to know how this mythical boy could ask me out. Would he brick his girlfriend and her twin sister up in the instrument storage room like in 'The Cask of Amontillado'?

Maybe Sesshoumaru was just flirting with me, pointlessly, for fun. Maybe he _did_ like touching me during the dip, even though it didn't mean anything to him. That was cool. I could enjoy a football season of flirting with Sesshoumaru and touching Sesshoumaru. If I didn't die of heart palpitations.

Or heartbreak.

He set me up standing. "It was meant as a favor. Just take it as a favor and say, 'Thank you, Sesshoumaru.'"

"Thank you, Sesshoumaru. May I have another?"

"Drum majors," the band called across the field. It was time to rum through the halftime show, and Mr. Yasha was motioning us over. "Horrible drum majors," someone else called. "Hey, really bad drum majors."

The laughing look in Sesshoumaru's eyes faded. _There_ was the look I'd come to know and love, the one that said he wanted to pitch me off the top of the bleachers.

We walked close enough to the band that Miroku heard this. He laughed really, really hard. Sesshoumaru just stood there. Miroku put his arm around Sesshoumaru's shoulders. "Bro, we need to talk."

As Miroku led Sesshoumaru away, Sesshoumaru gave me a sideways glance. He didn't look mad at me anymore. Amber eyes darker, long lashes heavy. He looked…..I wasn't sure _what _that look was.

But he wasn't mad.

I watched him duck with Miroku past the flags. Then I turned to Sango. "Miroku's cute," I said hopefully. He was in her AP classes, like Sesshoumaru. I had thought before that Miroku might have taken a shine to her, and that shine might be mutual.

Well, maybe not. Sango tossed her head. "He dresses like the 'hood."

"That's ridiculous. You're such a snob. He dresses cool. And our town isn't big enough to have a 'hood."

She sniffed. "So, did Sesshoumaru ask you out yet?"

"No, Koga asked me out. Sesshoumaru just went down on me. Did you see it?"

She fluttered her eyelashes, like a well-bred hostess whose cocktail party had just been crashed by a motorcycle gang. "For a virgin, you have the dirtiest mind."

"You're one to talk, Rapunzel. Let down your hair." I poked one of her gelled finger waves.

She removed my hand with two manicured fingers. "Are you kidding? It took me hours to get it this way." She glanced after Miroku and Sesshoumaru, like she was concerned about what Miroku thought of her finger waves, after all.

Then she said, "Speaking of hairdos. The majorettes wanted me to tell you that your dip with Sesshoumaru is _so romantic_."

I shouted laughter, and the nearby saxophones turned to stare at me. Y'all are real bored over there," I said.

"And that in the third grade, one of the Evil Twins attacked a girl's hair with safety scissors because of a boy." She touched the back of my head, where my long hair grazed the nape of my neck, like she was worried.

Despite myself, I searched the milling crowd for Kagura/Yura, and found at least one of them giving me an unfriendly look.

I said, "I'll keep that in mind."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: This fic is not mine!!!

Major Crush

Chapter 7

For the rest of the week I took Hojo's advice and ran a one-woman public relations campaign. First, on Wednesday morning, I cornered Tonya, Paula, and Mich in algebra and told then I didn't appreciate the way they'd treated me in the restroom at the game. Now that they were away from the mob, they said they were sorry. I fed them some touchy-feely lines about how Sesshoumaru and I were having a hard time adjusting to the partnership but were dealing with our problems.

After Tonya, Paula, and Mich, I worked my way through the rest of the band, talking to all one hundred and fifty of them alone or in small groups. All of them, that is, except Sesshoumaru's senior trombone friends. And the Evil Twins.

People actually were nice to me about it and at least pretended to understand and cooperate. By practice on Friday, I could feel a change in the atmosphere, like the pressure had dropped.

Or the reason for the weather change could have been that the band sounded so much better with a solid rhythm section underneath it. I'd worked hard with the drums all week. They finally sounded like they were playing their parts rather than dropping their drums and drumsticks from a ten-story building.

Friday after school four buses parked in front of the band room. The band was headed for the farthest football game of the year, down somewhere in southern Alabama. It would take forever to get there. We were only waiting for Mr. Yasha to show up from his faculty meeting.

I was stuck chaperoning the freshman bus. I should have complained that I got the freshman bus and Sesshoumaru got the senior bus. It made me look like assistant drum major. And I didn't look forward to the three-hour ride with screaming freshmen. That was a downside of being drum major—the _responsibility_. I'd claimed the front seat as a sort of escape hatch.

I sat on the stairs of the freshman bus, tapping my drumsticks on the rubber footpad of the stair. Sesshoumaru sat with the twin on the wall next to the band room door.

I tried not to look at them, but it was only natural that I would glance in their direction every now and then. They were the only thing to look at against the expanse of concrete and grass. And I was there first.

Sesshoumaru glanced over at me. _You dummy_, I thought. Of course the twin caught him looking at me, and she glared at me like I'd drawn his eye on purpose. Then they had a little chat. He glanced up at me again, uncomfortably. She glared at me.

Finally I got tired of the whole thing. I put my drumsticks down, put my knees up and me elbows on my knees and my chin on my fists, and just stared the hell out of them. I stared Sesshoumaru up and down like he was something good to eat. I even licked my lips when he wasn't watching and the twin was.

Well, that was it. Now she _really_ glared at me. We eyeballed each other like it was a game of eye-chicken. And it wouldn't be me who blinked first.

Sesshoumaru passed a hand in front of her face like she was blind, and she blinked. Then he pushed her off the wall with a very inappropriate love pat to the derriere that was probably against the school rules, and she scampered to the senior bus.

Mr. Yasha was finally walking down the hill from the school. With him came Ms. Rin, the track coach, who was about his age and two inches taller. He said something to her and pointed her toward the senior bus. Then he motioned to me. I met him in the grass, along with Sesshoumaru.

Mr. Yasha rubbed his hands together. "The two of you are getting along great, right?"

Sesshoumaru and I looked at each other uncomfortably. It wasn't the _us against Mr. Yasha_ look anymore.

"The show is coming along well for the contest, right?" Mr. Yasha went on. "Because I may have gotten myself in some more trouble."

I asked, "Can't you just stop going to the faculty meetings?"

"This had to be done, Higurashi. You know how you have a white Miss Homecoming and a asian Miss Victory every year? This violates desegregation laws. I can't believe no one's questioned it before."

"Probably because it's a holdover from 40 years ago," Sesshoumaru said, "when the asian and white high schools were separate. The white high school had their Miss Homecoming, and the asian high school had their Miss Victory. When they integrated, they kept both."

"Right," I said, nodding. "People get very _very_ touchy when you mess with their traditions."

Sesshoumaru poked me once in the ribs. I might have flirted back with him, or at least stepped a little closer to him. Except that a poke in the ribs meant nothing next to a love pat to the derriere.

Mr. Yasha continued like he hadn't noticed Sesshoumaru touching me. "Separate but equal. Illegal. And I said so loudly enough in the faculty meeting that the tradition is no more. From now on, the girl who gets the most votes will be Miss Homecoming. And the runner-up will be Miss Victory. No matter what race they are."

I thought about how this would affect Sango. She probably would be a candidate for Miss Homecoming/Miss Victory when the nominations were counted next week. She'd always been a maid on the homecoming float. She expected to be Miss Victory. Probably everything would stay the same under Mr. Yasha's new rules.

Mr. Yasha still ranted. "You can't designate school positions by race. I don't care what the tradition is. And I don't care what the principal think of me for saying so."

Sesshoumaru and I looked at each other again.

"Okay, that last part is bullshit," Mr. Yasha admitted.

Sesshoumaru gestured toward the senior bus. "What's Ms. Rin here for? Your bodyguard after the faculty meeting?"

"I al most forgot to tell you," said Mr. Yasha. "Taisho, you and Higurashi will be in charge of the freshman bus."

I hadn't wanted the freshmen, but now that part of my responsibility was being taken away, I wanted it back. I didn't need Sesshoumaru's help. I said, " The bus is packed. There's not enough room for Sesshoumaru to have a seat."

"Share a seat," Mr. Yasha said. "in fact, share the backseat. Lord knows we don't want kids feeling each other up back there."

I felt myself flash red at the idea. I must have looked like a traffic light every time I got around Sesshoumaru and Mr. Yasha started in with his comments.

Worse, Sesshoumaru didn't hide that he hated this idea. "I'm supposed to be on the senior bus."

"Right, with your squeeze," Mr. Yasha said. He reached up to grip Sesshoumaru's shoulder sympathetically.

"Squeezes," I corrected him.

Mr. Yasha laughed. "Good one." He gripped Sesshoumaru so hard that Sesshoumaru winced. "You're out of luck, Taisho. The flag coach is chaperoning the sophomores, I've got the juniors, and Ms. Rin has the seniors. We need to break her in gradually. I don't expect seniors to throw each other out the window. Freshmen, I'm not sure. It may take both of you to handle them."

"We don't need another chaperone," I said. "I can handle the freshmen fine."

"He's using this as an excuse to come on to Ms. Rin," Sesshoumaru said.

Mr. Yasha folded his arms and gave Sesshoumaru the stare.

Sesshoumaru folded _his_ arms and stared right back.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: This fic is not my creation!!

Major Crush

Chapter 8

I climbed onto the freshman bus and announced that everyone on the left side had to move up one seat. This was the equivalent of throwing a hurricane onto the bus, but it seemed fairer than telling the people in the backseat that they had to move to the front. People fought for the backseat like it was a backstage pass to a Maroon 5 concert.

The couple in the back didn't appreciate my kindness at all. They wouldn't budge. I tried to explain the situation in terms they could understand: Mr. Yasha was crazy.

Sesshoumaru climbed onto the bus and walked down the aisle behind me, towering over the freshmen. He said to the couple, "Move." They scrambled into the next seat. He dropped his uniform bag on the floor and slid next to the window.

Sesshoumaru was the real drum major, and I was someone to be ignored. But standing there in the aisle with my hands on my hips didn't do any good. The bus was starting. And Sesshoumaru couldn't even see me being mad, with his head leaned back on the seat and his eyes closed.

The bus lurched forward. I had to sit down next to him before I fell. "What's your problem?" I asked. "Did you get guff from the Evil Twin because you're not riding to the game with her?"

He opened his eyes and looked at me uneasily. "Could you hear her yelling all the way in here?"

I shook my head.

He closed his eyes again, took a deep breathe, and let it out slowly through his nose. "It's kind of a relief not to have to deal with that for three hours."

Was he saying he'd rather be around me than the twin? Knowing the twin, this wasn't saying much. But he was dating her. He was saying I was better than his girlfriend. Right?

Seems like he _did_ care what I thought of him, at least. He opened his eyes, sat up, and asked, "Are you mad at me?"

I batted my eyelashes at him. "Why in the world would I be mad at you, Sesshoumaru-kins?"

He pursed his lips to keep from laughing, an expression I was growing very fond of, unfortunately. "The way you were looking at me outside the bus before Mr. Yasha came down."

"I was looking at you that way because your girlfriend was shooting daggers at me through her own eyeballs."

"She's not real into you. She thinks I like you."

Oh, _interesting_. "Why would she think that?"

"Because we're getting along now. And because of the dip. And sitting in the backseat of the bus together isn't going to help."

I wanted to ask, "Well,_do_ you like me?" But of course I didn't. This was actually sort of somewhat halfway serious drum major business, for the good of the band and getting along and all that. I said, "It's your job to keep her off me. If you can't keep your girlfriend from talking ugly about me behind my back, you're not keeping your end of the bargain for us to be friends."

"But that would be if we were _real_ friends. I thought we were _fake_ friends."

Maybe he was just making fun of me for what I'd told him about my nose stud last Tuesday. While I was still trying to work this out in my head, he asked, "Have you been talking to the band about what happened at the game on Friday?"

I wondered if he was angry that I'd run the public relations campaign behind his back. "Some," I said cautiously. "Why?"

"Because people have apologized to me for things they said to me last Friday night."

"See?" I grinned. "Aren't you glad you have me on your side?"

"If it weren't for you, there wouldn't be a problem." Almost as soon as the words left his lips, he followed quickly with, "I'm sorry, Kagome. It slipped out. I'm still a little touchy about the whole thing, okay? Kagome." He put a hand on my shoulder.

But I'd turned my back on him. If he was going to be an ass, I didn't care _how_ long his eyelashes were.

He took his hand off my shoulder.

The foothills of the Appalachians around out town flattened into farmland on the hour's drive southwest to Montgomery. I knew from trips to the beach with my parents that from there, cotton fields, soybean fields, peanut fields, and cow pastures stretched all the way to the ocean. Of course, we weren't getting anywhere near the ocean this time. The game was in the middle of nowhere. As if our own town hadn't been nowhere enough already.

I spent the trip talking to Shippou, a shy freshman who wanted to try out for drum major when I graduated. He was teaching himself to write music for band, but he played saxophone and needed help with the drum parts. I tapped rhythms for him with my drumsticks on the metal back of his seat.

This probably annoyed everyone else on the bus. I know it annoyed Koga's little sister, Ayame, who shared the seat with Shippou, because she kept telling me so.

I'd hoped it would annoy Sesshoumaru. But the few times I stole a glance at him, he seemed absorbed in studying a book of SAT words. Which was strange. I'd never noticed Sesshoumaru studying anything before. And I always noticed Sesshoumaru.

As soon as the buses parked, he edged around me in the seat and left the bus without another word. I knew he had to help the boys unload the U-Haul of instruments. After he disappeared down the stairs, I dove for his uniform bag and pulled out his band shoes. Shippou and Ayame watched me. I put my finger to my lips.

"Kagome," Sango called from outside the bus, right on schedule.

I dropped Sesshoumaru's shoes through the window to her, then leaned out. "Thanks," I said.

"No prob." She tucked the shoes into the back waistband of the sweatsuit she wore with her majorette boots and tiara, as if nobody would notice the large growth on her butt. "So, you really rode all the way down here in the make-out sear with Sesshoumaru Taisho?"

"He talked my ear off the whole time. And the perv wouldn't keep his paws off me. I had to beat him away with my drumsticks. Be sure to tell his girlfriend the serial killer." I laughed at my own jokes. "And how was your trip? Did you suddenly bond with everyone on the bus and decide you want to spend the rest of your life in your hometown?"

"No, but it _does_ look pretty good compared to this place." She nodded into the sunset at a barbed wire fence that tan along the back of the football stadium. Behind the fence was a herd of…I think llamas.

I was about to tell her about the Miss Homecoming/miss Victory trouble that Mr. Yasha had stirred up, when I heard a scuffle and a scream behind me on the bus. Time to break up a fight over an iPod, which was strictly prohibited on band trips. The iPod and the fight.

It quickly turned into trumpets versus tubas. I tried to talk them down soothingly. When that didn't work, I threatened them with laps around the football field during band practice on Monday. I couldn't tell them I'd tattle on them to Mr. Yasha, because that would undermine my own authority.

Sesshoumaru climbed back up the stairs. Just what I needed—Sesshoumaru to save the day. His T-shirt stuck to his chest with sweat, and beads spilled from his hairline down his cheeks as he walked down the aisle. "Sit down," he said in passing.

Instantly the fight broke up, and everyone sat down in silence. The whole bus turned to watch Sesshoumaru make his way over uniform bags and around coolers in the aisle to our seat in the back.

I stood in the aisle, looking like an idiot. It didn't seem possible that a fight so big was over so quickly. There ought to be something left for me to take care of.

But Sesshoumaru was in charge.

It was all I could do to keep from giving him a piece of my mind. But I didn't want to get fired. As I walked slowly toward him down the aisle, I recited to myself, _Pizza Hut, Pizza Hut_.

The silence shifted and then lifted around us as everyone unzipped their uniform bags and started to change clothes. Without looking at Sesshoumaru, I sat beside him and pulled my T-shirt halfway off over my head.

Nobody wanted to sit in their band uniform on the bus for three hours. It felt uncomfortable and looked dorky. But there wasn't anywhere to change except the bus. The trick was to wear something skimpy but decent under your clothes, like a bathing suit or a sports bra, so you could change on the bus while the boys watched.

I hadn't really cared when I chose my tank top with a built-in bra, because I had thought I would be stuck along on the freshman bus. Now I suddenly cared very much what I looked like changing while a boy watched.

When I tugged the T-shirt the rest of the way off my face, Sesshoumaru was sitting with his back to the bus windows, staring at me. Hard.

"Do you _mind_?" I asked.

"I just wanted to see what you got."

My heart stopped.

His dark eyes widened. "Your uniform! I wanted to see the uniform you got."

Rats.

I shrugged my uniform coat on over my tank top. I fastened my miniskirt over my shorts, then pulled my shorts out from underneath. I was wearing matching briefs like cheerleaders wore so that the crowd wouldn't get an eyeful if my skirt flipped up. But I wasn't sure whether the briefs qualified as decent, like underwear. I figured I'd better not expose them to the freshmen and,uh…

Despite myself, I glanced at Sesshoumaru. He was still staring at me, all right. And not at my face, either. Then his eyes slowly traveled up to meet mine.

I turned away to zip up my knee-high botts. Finally I leaned back in the seat and crossed my ankles on an ice chest in the aisle, as if I were cool. Which, I assure you, I was not. "Well?" I asked.

"Well," he said. And he pulled off his sweaty T-shirt.

My mouth dropped open. As he rummaged in his bag, I tried to find a good time to repeat snippily, "I just wanted to see what you got." But my brain wasn't working.

I'd expected him to be thin, with a farmer's tan ending just above his elbows. Instead, he had the strong, tanned body of a farm boy used to baling hay, or swinging scythes, or whatever it was farm boys did in modern times, with his shirt off.

Suddenly the seat was too small for the two of us. The entire bus was too small for Sesshoumaru with his shirt off. In the seat across the aisle from us, Ayame pressed both hands to her mouth, and even Shippou gaped. Then a high, feminine "ooooooh,aaaaaah" broke out.

Sesshoumaru looked around the bus confusedly, like, _Who, me?_ He went back to his uniform bag, pulled on a clean T-shirt and his jacket, and continued to rummage. "have you seen my shoes?"

"Don't tell me you lost them again."

He stopped. I could tell he was reviewing packing his bag. He was wondering whether he'd lost his mind.

"Just wear you Vans again," I said. "They're black all over, and they look like band shoes from a distance. I don't think Mr. Yasha noticed you were wearing them last Friday."

"My dad noticed. My dad will kill me."

"Surely your dad isn't coming to the game. Even _my_ sickeningly supportive parents didn't come. It's too far."

He stared down at his Vans. This was really tearing him up. I wondered if he could hear his dad in his head, using the I-word.

He shook his head like he was shaking his dad out of his hair with sweat. "You ready?" he asked. I nodded and stood up. He followed close behind me down the aisle with his hand on my back, like we were a couple. He even pointed threateningly at a few boys who whistled when they saw me.

Mr. Yasha was laughing up at Ms. Rin, who stood in the doorway of the senior bus. When we walked over, she disappeared back inside the bus, and Mr. Yasha turned to us. And turned to me. And raised his eyebrows.

"Is this uniform okay?" I asked.

"Tell her, Taisho."

Sesshoumaru told me, "You look hot."

"What?" Mr. Yasha whacked Sesshoumaru on the chest. "That's not what I was going to say!"

Sesshoumaru colored. "Then why couldn't you tell her yourself?"

"Uh-uh," said Mr. Yasha. "No way. You're not pinning this on me. You got yourself into this one. And you already have girlfriends." He walked away cackling.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own this fanfic!

A/N: Thanks to all the people who reviewed!!!

Major Crush

Chapter 9

I should have known something was wrong with Sesshoumaru when he didn't pay attention to the football game. He usually was one of those people who actually watched the game. I relied on him to signal me when our team had scored and we needed to play the fight song. Football couldn't hold my interest. I waved to my friends on the cheerleading squad or watched the llamas try to paw through the barbed wire fence at the edge of the end zone.

Above us in the stands the band yelled, "Drum major! We need a drum major!"

Our team had made a touchdown. Sesshoumaru started like he'd been asleep, and we jumped up to direct the fight song.

The first time this happened, Mr. Yasha didn't seem to notice because he was busy talking to Ms. Rin. The second time, he gave Sesshoumaru and me the stare.

I _did_ know something was wrong with Sesshoumaru at the beginning of the halftime show, but by then I couldn't do anything about it.

We'd never done the dip for our salute at a game before, but we'd done it plenty of times in the past week in front of the band. Since we'd stopped falling down, we'd been pretty consistent. He put his hand _there_ and his leg _there_ and he leaned me back until my head almost touched the grass.

The trick was to hold the position for a few seconds, face to face, without cracking each other up. With his hands on me, his amber eyes close to mine, and my heart pounding, it was hard for me not to break into an embarrassed giggle fit. But I managed.

This time was different. He put his hand _there_ and his leg _there_, leaned me back, and held me there while the crowd screamed. Our lips almost brushed.

He blinked twice, and I felt myself falling. He'd lost his balance. He was about to faint. We were going to fall together on the fifty-yard line in front of the entire population of Llama Town.

Then he pulled me up and set me on my feet like nothing had happened.

It took me until halfway through the opening song to recover from the scare. But after that, the show went great. The band sounded awesome. The drums didn't trip themselves up. Sesshomaru and I watched each other carefully.

At the end of the show we got a standing ovation. We were the most exciting thing these people had seen since the tractor pull at the county fair.

Our last job was to turn the band to the right and march them off the field. Because some of them wouldn't be able to hear the command over the crowd noise, we'd told them before the show that they would turn to the right.

During the show we took turns. One of us directed the band from the podium while the other directed down on the field. I was on the field now, and Sesshomaru was on the podium. He shouted, "Band! Left face!"

Half the band turned to the left because Sesshomaru told them to. Half the badn turned to the right because they knew they were supposed to.

If he called, "Band, about face," the ones facing left would turn right, but the ones facing right would turn right, but the ones facing right would turn left. I hesitated a split second as I processed this, knowing Sesshomaru was thinking the same thing.

Sesshomaru swayed a little on the podium.

As I casually as possible in knee-high boots and a miniskirt, I ran from my place on the field into the mass of the band. Waling slowly between the lines, I touched each person on the sleeve, saying, "You stay put. You turn around. You stay put. You turn around."

This would take forever. Finally I got wise and called, "Toward the llamas! Everyone turn toward the llamas!"

It worked. The drum cadence started, and the few people who hadn't figured it out yet turned around and followed everyone else out of the stadium. I emerged from the crowd and brought up the rear with Sesshomaru.

I didn't say anything to him while we were in the stadium, because we were supposed to be at attention. But as soon as we passed through the fence around the field, I turned to him, angry all over again for the times he'd made me feel like a second-class drum major. "I'm not saying I'll never make a mistake. But I know my left from my right. You'pre going to get us both fired."

I had some more choice words for him, but by then, Mr. Yasha had pushed through the crowd to us. "Taisho," he began. I can't repeat everything he said next. I actually didn't hear all of it over the noise of the Llama Town band playing on the field. But it went something like, "Cussword cussword cussword marching band cussword cussword cussword Pizza Hut cussword cussword cussword Naraku cuss cuss cuss!"

He blustered away soon enough, and I was about to take another turn at Sesshomaru. But his dazed look stopped me. I asked him, "Are you okay?"

"I think I'm coming down with something."

I pulled off my uniform glove, then reached up and pressed my bare hand to his forehead. This was weird. Other than the dip, I'd never touched him on purpose before.

And then I fought the instinct to jerk my hand away in alarm. He was hotter than a human should be.

_Temperature_. He was hot in temperature. Hot had nothing to do with his amber eyes clouded by fever, or the silver hair plastered to his neck with sweat like he'd just enjoyed a long make-out session.

With sone lucky flute.

Ugh!

I pulled off the other glove and pressed both my hands on his cheeks to make sure.

He watched me warily like he thought I was about to slap him.

I took my hands away. "Is your throat killing you? It came on all of a sudden? But your head isn't plugged up like a cold?"

He nodded.

"It's probably strep throat. It's been going around. You might even have caught it from me."

"You—" His voice came out a whisper. He cleared his throat and started again. "You haven't been sick."

"I felt it soming on last Sunday. My dad took me to his office and gave me a strep test antibiotics. You definitely need to go to your doctor tomorrow. If you don't, it could develop into scarlet fever."

"Before 8 a.m.?"

"Um, no. But it will just get worse. You won't be in any condition to do anything at 8 a.m. Why? Do you have a hot date? Or two?"

He shook his head. "I'm driving to Auburn."

The Auburn University football team had an away game. I asked, "What for?"

"I'm taking the SAT." He swallowed. "Oh, my God, I'm taking the SAT with scarlet fever."

I grasped his gloved hand and led him toward the band's place in the stands. On the way we passed Sango. She glanced down at our hands, then looked at me with both expertly shaped eyebrows raised. I shook my head and asked her to get Sesshomaru a Coke.

I sat him down in the stands, then found Mr. Yasha with Ms. Rin again. "Sesshomaru's sick," I said. "Do we bring a first aid kit with us to the games? Do you think it might have Tylenol in it?"

"Are you shitting me?"

Ms. Rin stared in shock at Mr. Yasha, like any sensible person would when he opened his mouth.

He went on, "I'd get sued up, down, and sideways if I gave a child a pill without the school nurse filling out a form in quadruplicate." He turned back to sweet-talk Ms. Rin, who now looked like she was not at all sure about this.

I gazed up into the stands next to the band, but I didn't recognize any parents. Nobody but the cheerleaders and the band was stupid enough to come all this way to watch our football team get their butts kicked.

I turned to the clarinets. They were a resourceful lot. "Do y'all have any pain pills on you?"

All the clarinets rummaged through large purses. This amazed me because we weren't allowed to bring pursed or bags of any kind into the stadium. If Sesshomaru or I had seen them with a purse, we could have sent them back to the bus to get rid of it. A really resourceful lot. They passed a band hat down the like with pills in it.

Sango came back with Sesshomaru's Coke and peered into the hat with me. I took some painkillers and the Coke down to Sesshomaru.

The Evil Twin already sat beside him.

If she's brought him a Coke and some Tylenol, I would feel like a fool. A fool in a miniskirt.

But no, she only took up where she left off venting at him because he'd ridden on the freshman bus. With me.

I sat on his other side and handed him the Coke and the pills. While he drank, I leaned across him and said to the twin, "Not right now. He's sick."

Sesshomaru choked on the Coke.

I pounded him on the back.

The twin was still going.

When Sesshomaru could talk again, he interrupted her in a rough voice, "Really, could you give it a rest? I can't even, like…." He squeezed his eyes shut.

""Think?" I suggested.

"I can't even think right now. I'll call you tomorrow."

She left in a huff. Sesshomaru and I both took a deep breathe and sighed together.

"Why do you let her talk to you like that?" I asked. "It doesn't seem like you."

"You're not supposed to yell at girls," he told me again, hoarsely. "Besides, I've known her forever. I've had class with her since kindergarten. I'm used to it. It rolls off."

"That doesn't explain why you would go out of your way to date it. What are you doing? Trying each flute until you find one who puts out?"

He was quiet so long that I though I'd pushed him too far and insulted him on a sensitive topic. Maybe he was "sexually active," as they referred to it in the ob-gyn office, with the twin. Yikes!

But then he said, "What are you doing? Using Hojo as a human shield so _you_ don't have to put out?"

We gave each other a long look. It was like we were back in the farm truck, just the two of us, with the windows rolled up and the band muffled around us. He was dead-on about something I'd only half-realized about myself.

He cleared his throat like it hurt. "I'm dating her because she's pretty and she's nice."

This had not been my experience with the twins. I didn't challenge the pretty part, but I asked him, "Nice? Which one are you dating?"

"The nice one."

"Which one is that?"

He didn't answer.

"Sesshomaru. Do you know which twin you're dating?"

Slowly, like he was sore, he set down his Coke, pulled off his gloves, and ran both hands back through his wet hair. I've only dated her since the beginning of summer band camp. Five weeks."

"Five weeks is a long time to date someone without knowing her name."

"Right," he said emotionlessly. "It went too far. I can't admit it to her now."

"Why weren't you honest with her in the first place?"

"I should have been. I realized later. I was kind of distracted that week."

I tried to imagine what could distract a boy from figuring out which girl he's asked to watch TV at the Rent 2 Own. "Distracted by what?"

"You. Drum major stuff. And I had some stuff going on at home."

"Drum major!" the band yelled above us. Our team had scored a field goal. I jumped up.

Sesshomaru was still sitting down. "I'm afraid to stand up," he said.

I directed the fight song for the skeleton crew of drums and trumpets who'd stayed in the stands during third quarter. I kept my eyes on Sesshomaru. He must be half dead to sit out the fight song and risk Mr. Yasha calling him the I-word. But Mr. Yasha was absorbed in arguing with Ms. Rin.

When I sat down again, Sesshomaru leaned his damp head on my shoulder.

I took a long breathe, slow enough that he wouldn't notice, I hoped. I told myself that his head on my shoulder didn't mean anything. He was just sick.

I glanced down at his bare hands, and felt a little sick myself. He wasn't wearing a class ring. Almost all senior boys wore one. Unless they had given it away. "Does she have your class ring?" I asked.

"Who?"

"Good question."

"Oh." He held up his hand and examined it. "I don't have a class ring. I ordered one, but we canceled a lot of orders all of a sudden during the summer. Anyway, she and I aren't that serious."

I laughed. "Does _she_ know that?"

Miroku, Koga, and a few more trombones banged down the stadium stairs and crowded around us. I still thought Miroku was cute, and I didn't understand why Sango didn't think so too. Somehow he managed to wear his band uniform in that ultra-casual way he wore all his clothes, even though it was the same uniform everyone else wore."

He poked at Sesshomaru with the end of his trombone slide. I think this was a boy version of concern. "What's the matter with you?" he asked.

"I have scarlet fever," Sesshomaru said.

"Ooooh, aaaaah," the trombones chorused as they ran away.

Only Miroku stayed. "You can't be sick. You're taking the SAT tomorrow."

"Helpful, Miroku," I said.

Miroku studied Sesshomaru's head on my shoulder. "Looks like he doesn't need any more help. Sesshomaru, you know the Evil Twin won't like this."

Sesshomaru shot Miroku the bird. I think this was how boys showed appreciation for concern.

Miroku cussed at Sesshomaru and stomped up the stairs.

Sesshomaru nuzzled my shoulder.

By the end of the game his face felt cooler, but he had chills. I tried not to be disappointed. I'd been half-hoping he'd be hot and the shirt would come off again. Instead, he stumbled into the seat at the back of the bus and asked me to borrow a blanket for him.

I used the blanket as a cover to take his banc shoes from Sango at the bus door and slip them back into his bag at our feet. But then, over the bus engine starting, I told him, "I don't think the blanket is a good idea. You only _think_ you're cold. You don't want to get overheated when you have a fever."

I glanced over at Shippou and Ayame. They watched us like we were the latest Orlando Bloom movie, but maybe they wouldn't tell on us. Surely nobody felt any loyalty to the twin.

And then the lights in the ceiling of the bus blinked out.

"I'll keep you warm," I whispered into the darkness. I wrapped my arm around him.

This seemed fine with Sesshomaru. He relaxed into me. I decided I kind of liked this fever thing.

Then he bent down to his bag. He stayed bent for a few long seconds. He must have realized his band shoes were back, Then he shrugged and brought out the SAT book and a little flashlight.

"Not again," I said. "Why are you taking the SAT tomorrow, anyway? You know you wouldn't get home tonight until one thirty."

"It's the last time I can take it before the scholarship deadline at Auburn."

"Why did you wait so long to take it, then?"

He sighed the longest sigh. "I took it last fall. I didn't do well on the critical reading. But I did well enough to get into Auburn. I didn't know then that I needed a scholarship." He leaned against me again, heavily, like giving up.

"So you want me to quiz you?"

He handed me the book and held the flashlight for me. I kept one arm around him and thumbed through the book with the other hand. I found a good word right off. "Captious."

"Finding fault with every little thing."

I thumbed some more. "Vituperate."

"To find fault."

I skipped a whole section of pages to find one he hadn't studied. ""Excoriate."

"To denounce severely."

"You know all of these," I said. "Invective."

"An insult."

"Bravado," I said.

"A pretentious display of courage. Do you mean me?"

"Abjure," I said. "Abjure" was like "abdicate." Give up the throne. Give up the drum major position.

Sesshomaru didn't recite the definition, but he knew what I was getting at. "You wish," he said. "I can't believe I'm dying of scarlet fever and you're using SAT words to argue with me."

"I'm not using SAT words to argue with you.?"

"You've got that whole book, and you just happen to vituperate and excoriate and throw invectives at me? And you say my _girlfriend_ is evil?"

I had thought it was funny, but now I felt bad. Captious, even.

I leaned down into the aisle and arranged a couple of coolers so that he'd have a footrest. "Switch with me," I said. I slid around him to sit next to the window. "Lie down," I told him.

"Can't. Have to study."

"You won't get a good score if you're sleep deprived, no matter how many words you know. Lie down."

"You have to ask me words," he said. But he lay down with his shoulder on the seat and his head on my thigh. His legs stretched across the coolers in the aisle, and his feet almost touched Shippou in the next seat. The school bus was definitely too small for Sesshomaru.

It had to be the most uncomfortable sleeping position ever. Each time the bus braked, he nearly rolled off the seat. Finally he braced himself by putting his hand on my knee.

"Ask my words," he murmured.

I stayed with lullaby words like "genial" and "bonhomie" His answers got softer, and there was a longer and longer silence before he prompted me to ask another. He was asleep.

The whole bus was asleep except me. There was no way I could fall asleep in the next three hours. My knee under his hand and my thigh under his head were on fire. Gently, I ran my fingers through his long silver hair. In the faint moonglow through the window, I saw him smile a little, eyes still closed, lashes against his cheeks.

I liked touching him on purpose.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own this story. I tell you!

A/N: Thanks 2 all the ppl that reviewed!! They are much appreciated!!

Major Crush

Chapter 10

When the buses parked at the high school, Sesshomaru was burning up again. It had been about four hours since he took a pill. I dug more of the clarinet stash from my pocket and game him a drink out of my cooler.

Clearly he was in no shape to drive himself home. I would ask Miroku to give him a ride. But by the time we climbed down the stairs of the empty bus, almost all the cars had left the parking lot.

And then I had a better idea. Dad was on call, which meant that he might be at the hospital delivering a baby. If he was home, though, he could start Sesshomaru on antibiotics. Sesshomaru would still be sick tomorrow at 8 a.m., but at least he might be on the road to recovery, with the edge take off the fever. Not stupid-sick like he was now, and getting worse.

Sango was asleep in the passenger side of my car. Without arguing with me, Sesshomaru stretched out on the backseat, and I drove to my house.

When I parked in the driveway, Sango got out of the car and wandered over to her house without saying goodbye or taking her stuff. Her bags and boots and sequined leotard and tiara sat in the passenger seat like a pool of melted majorette. Sesshomaru didn't wake up.

Inside the house Dad dozed on the couch with the Weather Channel on. I pinched him a little harder than necessary, and he started up. I explained the situation with Sesshomaru.

"I can't just give him an antibiotic," Dad said. "He has to take a strep test first."

"Do you have one on you? Come on, Dad. They're my germs. It's my fault if he gets a three-twenty on the critical reading."

I followed Dad as he grabbed a flashlight from a drawer and walked out to the car. When he opened the back door, Sesshomaru still didn't wake up.

"Sesshomaru," Dad said gently.

Sesshomaru opened his eyes and sat up. "Hello, Dr. Higurashi."

I wondered how Sesshomaru knew Dad. Of course, most people did. Dad and Sango's dad were well known. They'd delivered half the town.

"Open your mouth and say 'ah'," Dad told him. He used the flashlight to peer into Sesshomaru's throat. "Good news," he said, clicking the flashlight off. "You're not pregnant."

I was horrified at Dad for the stupid joke. It was bad enough that he was an ob-gyn. He didn't have to go around reminding people.

But Sesshomaru laughed. And laughed. And laughed. He was really sick.

Dad rolled his eyes and closed the car door. "Does he live across town? You can't take him home. Let him borrow your car. Your mother will you to get it tomorrow."

"I don't think he should drive, Dad. He's comatose."

"Well, _you're_ not driving him. It would be past two before you got home."

"Can you drive him?"

"Hell, no. I'm on call." Being on call made him testy. "He can stay in the guest room."

"What about the antibiotic?"

"Maybe. I'll call his mother."

How embarrassing. "You don't even _know_ his mother."

"She's my patient. I just saw her yesterday." He went into the house.

I opened the car door again. Sesshomaru had fallen asleep sitting up.

"Sesshomaru," I said.

Slowly he opened his eyes and turned to me. His expression changed. I recognized that dark-eyed look. It was the same look he'd given me last Tuesday at practice, when I accused him of being innocent.

I understood what the look meant now. Sesshomaru wasn't innocent. He was anything but.

Ever so briefly, I thought about what it would be like to make out with a feverish Sesshomaru in the backseat of my car.

I might have tried to find out, too, if Dad hadn't been just inside the house, _on the phone with Sesshomaru's mother._

"Come on." I took Sesshomaru's hand and pulled.

He didn't budge. Instead, _he_ pulled _me_, and kept me standing beside the car.

I thought he might pull me _into_ the car. He couldn't quite decide.

He swallowed and winced.

"You're sick," I whispered.

He slid off the seat and let me lead him across the driveway, into the house, and onto the living room couch. When we sat down next to each other, I released my grip on his hand.

But he didn't release his grip on mine.

And then he moved his thumb up to the tip of my thumb and down the other side.

A chill washed over me.

He reversed direction and moved his thumb of my thumb again, down into the sensitive hollow between my thumb and finger. Up to my fingertip and down the other side. Up to the next fingertip and down the other side. Over and over, all the way to my pinky, where he reversed direction and did it again.

I stared at my hand open to his hand. I glanced up at him once, but he was watching out hands, too. So it wasn't some kind of feverish spasm. He knew what he was doing.

I could hear Dad still talking on the phone in the kitchen. I willed Dad to stay on the phone for a really really long time. I stopped breathing every time Sesshomaru's thumb neared my fingertip. And each time his thumb dipped into the hollow between my fingers, a new chill washed from my face, down my neck, down my arms, and all the way to my toes.

A _beep_ sounded as Dad hung up the phone. I jerked my hand back into my lap.

Dad walked into the living room. "It's a go." He said. "Sesshomaru, you look better."

And just like that, it was over. Dad found Sesshomaru an antibiotic, and I gave him a glass of water. Then I prodded him towards the guest bedroom. He stretched out on the bed without looking back at me, and without pulling down the covers. He was already gone. There didn't seem to be much point in suggesting that he take off his Vans. I found another blanket in the closet, covered him, turned off the light, and left the room, closing the door behind me.

And stood there staring at the closed door. I was like an amputee who still thought her missing leg was there. I could feel his cheek on my thigh and his hand on my knee and his thumb tracing up and down the outline of my hand.

I should have hated him for this snarky comment when we first got on the bus: _If it weren't for you, there wouldn't be a problem_. I should have hated him for making me feel like Mini-Me. I knew he just had a fever, he was out of his mind, he wanted some lovin', and I was convenient. If he really liked me and wanted to date me, he would have broken up with the twin by now.

I knew all this. And he_still_ had me lit up like the Fourth of July. In Semptember.

I went to my room and changed into my pajamas. Then changed into different pajamas.. Actually stood in front of the full length mirror to see what I looked like in pajamas. I was going crazy.

Then there was the bra. I couldn't wear a bra to bed. I'd suffocate in my sleep. But what if Sesshomaru got up and needed something during the night? I couldn't let him see me without a bra. Finally I put on my bra and left it unfastened.

I curled up on the couch in the living room, with the guest room door just down the hall. Sesshomaru's cheek still burned a hole through my thigh, his hand through my knee. His thumb crested my fingertips and sank into the hollows between my fingers. The Weather Channel and the threat of a turbulent front on the way lulled me to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: This not a creation of mine!!!

A/N: Thanks to all the people that reviewed!!!!

Major Crush

Chapter 11

The shower in the hall bathroom woke me. My mouth was wide open. Sesshomaru had walked across the hall from the guest room to the bathroom. He'd probably looked in here and seen me snoring.

I jumped to the mirror above the fireplace to make sure there wasn't any drool on my face, at least. Then I passed my hands across my cheeks and fingered my hair down where it stuck up in the back.

I never wore makeup, and my hair was easy to fix. There was no reason for me to worry about Sesshomaru seeing me when I first woke up. I didn't look much different from how I looked at school. I worried anyway. I even thought about running to my room and changing into a tight T-shirt and jeans. But that might make it seem like I cared.

Mom flowed downstairs in full makeup, with her hair already coiffed. My friends bought their mothers flowered robes and fuzzy high-heeled slippers for their birthdays as a joke, to wear when they broke out the toning masks and had spa day. My mother bought this stuff for herself and wore it everyday, no joke. Every day was spa day at Miss Higurashi.

I followed her into the kitchen, set the table, and helped her start breakfast. Soon Dad sat down in his business clothes and a tie, ready to go to the hospital to make rounds.

Then Sesshomaru, looking pale under his tan. He pushed the SAT book across the table to me. He must have gone out this morning, and fished it from the car. Or maybe he'd retrieved it during the night and slept with it stuck to his forehead on the off chance some of it would seep into his brain.

"Ignominy," I said, crunching bacon.

"I don't know that one," Mom said.

"Dishonor," Sesshomaru said.

I flipped through the pages. "Nefarious," I said.

"I don't know that one," Mom said.

"Wicked," Sesshomaru said.

"Atrocity," I said.

"I don't know that one," Mom said. For being crowned Miss State of Alabama 1982, Mom won a full college scholarship. She dropped out of college to get her Mrs. Degree and worked to put Dad through medical school. Since then, reading _Vogue_ was the only exercise she gave her poor cerebrum. Possibly she only looked at the pictures.

"A savagely cruel act," Sesshomaru said. "Or something in shockingly bad taste."

I glanced up at him. He was eating, and answering these definitions without thinking. I examined the book closely to find a word that was both difficult and appropriate. "Opprobrious," I said.

"Disgraceful or shameful" said Sesshomaru. "I thought we'd called a truce. You're fighting with me with SAT words again."

"She's not doing it for your benefit," Dad butted in. "She's doing it for mine." He reached across the table, jerked the SAT book from my hands, and thumbed through it. "Aha. Vendetta."

"A long and bitter feud," Sesshomaru said.

"You know this stuff cold." Dad handed the book back to me without looking at me.

This time I had a word in mind. I'd thought about Dad when I came across it in English class. I looked up, then read, "Mountebank."

"A quack who isn't what he seems to be," Sesshomaru said.

Dad got up and took his half-full plate to the sink.

Mom protested, "You're not going to eat?"

"Not hungry," Dad grumbled, walking back upstairs.

My mom gave me a disapproving look, but she didn't say anything. She'd always stayed out of the fight between me and Dad, even through it had everything to do with her.

Sesshomaru stared after Dad, then wisely changed the subject. Waving at a shelf full of trophies and sashes and pictures of me wearing makeup, he asked, "Am I hallucinating?"

"No," I said. "I was Miss Junior East-Central Alabama 2004. I tried to throw all this stuff out, but Mom commandeered it and displayed it in her kitchen to spite me."

Mom said, "You don't want to throw out all those good memories just because you're going through a phase."

"See?" I said. "My mother is the one hallucinating."

Mom huffed out a dainty sigh and stood, putting her manicured hand on Sesshomaru's arm. "I'll make you some coffee."

"What!" I exclaimed. "You don't let me drink coffee."

"Sesshomaru is older than you," she called from the kitchen.

"He's _seventeen_!"

Sesshomaru smirked at me.

"It'll stunt your growth," I told him.

"I'm six foot two. So, you don't get along with your dad?"

"Perspicacious," I said.

"Having keen insight."

I glared at him.

"Oh," He said. "You mean me."

"I liked you a lot better when you had a fever."

The doorbell rang, probably Sesshomaru's father. Dad came downstairs again to answer the door. Mom floated in and handed Sesshomaru a travel mug. He thanked her so much for her hospitality, blah blah blah.

As he walked toward the door, Mom held me back. "He has very good manners. He seems like a nice boy," she whispered, like I'd intended to bring him home to meet the parents.

Of course he seemed like a nice boy. Mom would think Eminem seemed like a nice boy compared to Hojo. Hojo had lived in a bus. It was hard for people to get past the bus.

Out on the front porch Dad and Sesshomaru talked with Sesshomaru's father. He must have come straight from the night shift at the mill. He was covered in a thin white film, and larger clumps of cotton stuck to the back of his hair and his work shirt.

Sesshomaru motioned to his dad's car, and I followed him and said quietly, "Thank you."

"For what? Strep throat?"

He frowned. "Why won't you let me thank you? What's happened? Are you acting this way because I asked you about your dad?"

There was no way he'd forgotten about what he was doing with his hand the night before. If I'd felt what I felt, he had to have felt _something_, no matter how out of it he was.

I folded my arms on my chest. "Good luck."

He looked at me like he wanted something else from me. But I didn't have anything more to give him just then. Except the SAT book.

Dad and I watched the car climb the brick driveway. Little cotton fibres hung in the bright, still air and glinted in the sun.

"He seems like a nice boy," Dad said.

"He is _not_ a nice boy. He just acted that way this morning because he's delirious."

"You might give him a break. He's going through a hard time with his family right now."

A hard time? Letting down the Taisho family drum major legacy? "What kind of hard time?" I asked. Then I remembered what Sesshomaru had told me on the bus about why he hadn't bothered to figure out which twin he was dating. He was distracted by stuff going on at home.

Sesshomaru shook his head. "If he hasn't told you, I can't tell you."

Sesshomaru's mother was Dad's patient. Dad couldn't give away his patient's secret. I considered all the things that could be wrong with Sesshomaru's mother that would give Sesshomaru a hard time at home. Ovarian cancer. Breast cancer. I asked, "Is she going to die?"

Dad blinked. "No. Just give him a break, would you? Forgive and forget?"

Dad was asking me to give Sesshomaru a break. But I knew what he meant. Dad wanted a break for himself.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own this story.

Major Crush

Chapter 12

Sesshomaru was out of school Monday and Tuesday. The Evil Twins were out too. I was very thankful I didn't have to deal with them without Sesshomaru there to run interference for me. And I was glad they'd missed their hot date at the Rent 2 Own.

But I was jealous of their germs. I wondered what Sesshomaru had done with the twins to give them strep, and when. Then I remembered that it had been going around school for weeks. And when Miroku came down with it on Wednesday, I felt much better.

Except that Sesshomaru was still acting like the whole band thing hadn't happened. He was nice to me like he was supposed to be. He even flirted with me a little during practice, and seemed hurt when I didn't flirt back.

I lived for him to flirt with me, and I wanted to badly to flirt back. I lived for him to touch me _there_ and _there_ when we practiced the dip.

But I felt used. He still hadn't broken up with the twins. What did he think I was, some trashy hand-slut? I felt like he'd taken advantage of me for a good time and then dumped me. But he hadn't taken advantage of me. He'd hardly done _anything_. And I couldn't decide whether that made it better or worse. Which made me even madder.

Everyone was back at school on Friday, in time for homecoming. Sure enough, Sango was a candidate for Miss Homecoming/Miss Victory. So was Yura.

I couldn't believe it. People hated the twins. Or maybe they just hated Kagura. But I asked around, I found out that one or both of them had a one-woman or two-woman public relations campaign of their own. They got some credit because they dated Sesshomaru, who was high profile. Plus, lots of boys apparently thought the mean attitude was a turn-on.

The announcement came at the end of my English class, just before lunch on Friday. Sango got the most votes. She was Miss Homecoming. Yura was next. She was Miss Victory.

At the bell I rushed out of the room and down to the lunchroom, where I always met Sango. She waved and grinned at me from way down the hall. Then, as I watched, one of the twins stopped her, said something to her, and flounced away.

Sango didn't react. She started walking again as if nothing had happened. And then, when I reached her, I saw that her eyes were hard.

"What did she say to you?" I breathed.

Sango shook her head. "I hate this town, I hate this town, I hate this town."

"Oh, God, Sango. _What did she say to you?_"

Sango licked her perfect lipstick. She said woodenly, " 'Yura isn't going to be Miss Victory. A white girl doesn't have to take an Asian's leavings.'"

I went cold in the crowded, muggy hallway. All I could think of to say was, "Ick!" Then, "She's Miss Icktory."

Sango didn't laugh. She still looked stunned.

I pushed her into the lunchroom and through the line. I even loaded her salad plate for her, avoiding the beets. At one of the tables Sesshomaru laughed with Miroku, Koga, and the other trombones. I shoved Sango along in front of me and sat her down there.

This was partly chance. There happened to be a couple of empty seats at the end of their table, probably because everyone was afraid of the trombones poking fun at them. But I also wanted Sesshomaru to know what his twins had done. I told the whole table what had happened.

"She said that?" Sesshomaru asked incredulously.

Miroku reached across the table and whacked Sesshomaru on the arm. "You're dating a racist."

"You don't know that." Sesshomaru turned to Sango. "Which one of the twins said it?"

She shrugged.

"Why does it matter which one said it?" I asked him. "What will that tell you? You don't even know which one you're dating."

"I _do_ know which one I'm dating," he said triumphantly. "I figured that out this morning in homeroom. I know I'm dating the one who isn't on the homecoming court. I'm dating Kagura."

The trombones clapped for him.

He turned to Sango again. "What exactly did she say?"

I had been worried about Sango, but now I felt better. She came back to life and got angry. Her voice louder with every word she repeated, "Yura isn't going to be Miss Victory. A white girl doesn't have to take an Asian's Leavings!"

"Abjure," I said under my breathe to Sesshomaru.

He didn't look at me, but I knew form the way his jaw tightened that he'd heard me.

"If she said Yura, then she must have been Kagura," Miroku pointed out. "Sesshomaru, you have to break up with…" His voice trailed off.

My heart beat faster at the thought that Sesshomaru was going to break up with her. He was finally going to break up with her! He was as good as mine!

Then I saw that Sesshomaru had borrowed Mr. Yasha's brain-melting stare and was giving it to Miroku.

"It wasn't necessarily Kagura," Koga joined in hopefully. "It might have been Yura. She could have referred to herself in the third person like small children do. Like Elmo on _Sesame Street_."

"Right. Let's think about this scientifically," said Miroku. He instructed Koga to get out his notebook and draw a grid. Then he asked Sango, "What was she wearing?"

Sango closed her eyes. "Jeans and one of those new school spirit T-shirts."

"They both are," Sesshomaru muttered. The furious look in his eyes had faded. But he was avoiding everyones's gaze, examining the water-stained ceiling.

"How about something else that distinguishes them from each other?" Miroku prompted Sango. "Earrings, or shoes?"

"I didn't notice," Sango said, putting her hand to her forehead. "I was kind of pre-occupied with this girl questioning my right to breather her air."

Miroku moved closer to her. "This is important. We may be able to track her if we can figure out that, say, Yura carries a pink bag and Kagura carries a red one."

"They both wear bad blue eyeliner," I offered, "but I think it's Kagura who sometimes experiments with green." I was making this up.

"That's good," Miroku said, pointing at me. "Koga, write that down. Sango, did her eyeliner jump out at you?"

I asked, "How could it not?"

"Now you're being captious," Sesshomaru said to me.

"Don't you dare excoriate me," I said. "You're the one with the nefarious girlfriend."

The other trombones at the end of the table talked low together, looking up often at Sesshomaru.

Sesshomaru's eyes focused on me like he wanted to say something else to me. Then his glance slid off me to Bankotsu. "What, Bankotsu? Bring it on."

"You're the leader of the band, Sesshomaru," Bankotsu said. "Not just the half of the band that have other nationalities."

"Don't tell me what to do," Sesshomaru said.

"Sesshomaru, you have to break up with her," said Miroku. "Serious."

"Back off," Sesshomaru told Miroku. He turned to me. "You're loving this, aren't you?"

"No. I'm not loving what she did to Sango. Where _is_ your girlfriend anyway? Why don't you go comfort her in this time of great sorrow for her and/or her sister?"

"Good idea." He got up, towering over the table, and walked across the lunchroom. He stopped at the table where both twins in their matching school spirit T-shirts sat with some of their friends.

Aww, man! I hadn't expected him to take my suggestion. But I should have known he'd want to discuss the situation with the twins like responsible adults.

I turned to Sango to see if she was feeling better. But she was watching Sesshomaru. So as he bent to talk to the twins with his arms crossed on his chest.

"When he comes back," Miroku said quietly, "I'd advise you ladies to cool it a little. We know Sesshomaru isn't a racist. He'll do the right thing. He just doesn't want to break up with her on hearsay. But he's under a lot of pressure right now. If you push him too hard, he's liable to snap." He snapped his fingers.

I insisted, "I am not going to tiptoe around Sesshomaru Taisho just because he wants to hang on to long hair, big boobs, and her sister."

Sesshomaru walked back toward us, arms crossed, and didn't uncross them until he pulled out his chair and sat down. He hardly glanced at me as he announced to the table in general, "She said she would never make a comment like that."

"Which one?" I asked.

Koga and Bankotsu and the other trombones snorted with laughter. Miroku gave them a warning look.

Sesshomaru glared at me. "Both of them."

"Well, one of them is lying," I said. "Or Sango is lying. Who do you believe?"

He looked over at the twins' table, where the twins and all their friends were watching_our_ table. Then he turned to Sango, as if he were really pondering the question: Sango versus Evil Twins. "Everyone is attacking me when I did do anything," he said, again to the table instead of me. "It's not fair."

"How do you think Sango feels?" I asked.

Sango raised her carefully shaped eyebrows at him.

He reached across the table, covered her hand with his hand, and squeezed. "I know," he said. "But you're acting like _I_ did something awful, when I didn't. I'm sorry but I wouldn't do something like that, and neither would Yura."

"You're dating Kagura!" called the table.

His jaw was set. "I said back off."

Miroku sat up straight and clapped his hands. "Sesshomaru says back off. I trust him to investigate and to do the right thing."

"You didn't' trust him a few minutes ago when you had Koga charting the twins' wardrobes," I said. "You're going to let Sesshomaru get away with this just because you're afraid he's going to blow?"

"Back. Off," Sesshomaru told me.

"Me! Why don't you tell the twin to back off Sango? What do you see in the racist, anyway? Why don't you break up with her?"

"Kagome," Sango said in warning.

"Sesshomaru shouted at me, "Don't tell me what to do!"

"Sesshomaru," said Miroku, looking over our shoulders.

It occurred to me that Miroku and Sango might see a twin behind us. But I didn't care anymore. I screamed at Sesshomaru, "You're not supposed to yell at girls!"

I felt someone close at my shoulder. I whirled around to tell Yura/Kagura exactly what I thought of her/them.

It was Mr. Yasha.

I braced for him to let us have it. But he glanced over to Ms. Rin at the teacher table. Then he said quietly, "I thought we agreed you kids would play nice."

Sesshomaru shouted at Mr. Yasha, "Take a number!"

I slapped a hand over Sesshomaru's mouth.

The lunchroom had fallen so silent that I cold hear air hissing in the ceiling duct-work and pots clanking way back in the kitchen. Sesshomaru's chest rose and fell quickly under my arm, and I could feel his heart thumping.

Mr. Yasha spoke slowly through his teeth. "I am _busy with my colleagues_. Go wait for mw outside my office. I'll be down there when I wrap this up. And while you're walking, enjoy your last five minutes as drum majors."


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do Not own this story!

A/N: Thanks to all the people that reviewed!!

Major Crush

Chapter 13

Sesshomaru and I tried to escape the hushed lunchroom as quickly as possible. But of course the lunch room lady stood guard at the door. We had to go all the way to the dishwasher, and walk all the way back through the lunchroom with entire band and a hundred other people watching our every move. Naraku seemed especially interested.

We walked down to the band room without talking. Sesshomaru naturally walked faster than me, and I let him get ahead.

When I pushed open the heavy door to the band room, Sesshomaru was pacing. I put my back against Mr. Yasha's office door, slid to the floor, kicked off my flip-flops, and took my drumsticks out of my backpack.

Sesshomaru paced from then instrument storage to Mr. Yasha's office and back. It was annoying, but I was sire I could be more annoying if I tried. The more he paced, the louder I tapped with my drumsticks on the floor.

Finally he paused in front of me. "Can you stop that?"

"Don't tell me what to do," I mimicked him over the tapping. "I'm hungry. Aren't you? We should never argue at lunch."

He bent down toward me with his hand extended. "May I borrow those?"

I handed over the drumsticks in surprise. If I'd had time to think about it, I wouldn't have given them to him, because I could have predicted what he'd do.

Sure enough, he reared back with his arm, and threw the drumsticks hard. They sailed across the band room, clattered against the far wall, and rang some cymbals on their way down to the carpet.

When Sesshomaru wheeled back around, Mr. Yasha stood in the band room doorway with his arms folded.

"Fire me, then!" Sesshomaru shouted at Mr. Yasha. "Just go ahead and fire me!"

"I don't want to fire you, Taisho," Mr. Yasha said. "Or Higurashi, either. Have you _seen_ Naraku?" He unlocked the door-knob over my head.

He sat down at his desk, and I sat down in a chair. He told Sesshomaru, "Better close the door, despite the repercussions."

Sesshomaru pulled the door closed, then stood behind the empty chair.

"Please have a seat," Mr. Yasha said.

"No thanks," Sesshomaru said.

"_Sit!"_

Sesshomaru sat down.

"Now then," Mr. Yasha began pleasantly—so pleasantly that I knew he was faking. "Why don't you tell me what the problem is?"

I piped up, "He's dating a racist!"

"You don't _know_ that," Sesshomaru said.

"—and he's just too stubborn to admit it."

Mr. Yasha put his chin in his hand and considered me. "What business is it if of yours who he's dating?"

Sesshomaru didn't say "Yeah!" but he didn't have to. I could feel him staring at me smugly.

"His girlfriend made a racist comment to my friend," I said.

Mr. Yasha moved his hand away from his chin so he could gape at me. "Oh, shit. We are_not_ going to have any of _that _going on in my marching band. Which twin was it?"

"We don't know!" Sesshomaru shouted in exasperation.

Mr. Yasha turned to Sesshomaru. "You mean you can't tell them apart?" He chuckled. "Sounds like true love, Taisho. But this isn't why you two are fighting. It's the subject matter of the hour, but it's not _why_." He rubbed his hands together. "I think I know of something that can help us. Now, it may surprise you to hear that I come from a dysfunctional family."

"No!" Sesshomaru said sarcastically.

"Watch it, Taisho. Anyway, one of the times the police came, the judge sent us to family counseling. Despite the fact that I was a jaded teen at the time, I found family counseling very enlightening."

He leaned forward in his chair. "It's simple. You don't interrupt each other. You let the person talking say their peace. You take turns telling each other how you feel."

"Sesshomaru and I tried this last Friday on the bus," I said. "It didn't work out. We didn't speak to each other again until Sesshomaru's temperature went up to a hundred and four."

"She's easier to get along with when she's blurry," Sesshomaru said.

Mr. Yasha gave Sesshomaru the evil eye, then turned it on me. He went on as if we hadn't interrupted him. "Here's how family counseling works. You start, 'I feel,' and put in emotion, and them tell us why you feel that way. Higurashi, you go first."

Immediately I said, "I feel angry."

"Too easy," said Mr. Yasha.

"I feel," I said again. Clearly, we were not going to get out of this until Mr. Yasha thought we were making some sort of effort. So I considered how I really felt. As I reached deep down, I was surprised by what I found in there.

"Time's up," said Sesshomaru. "Game over."

"Shut up!" Mr. Yasha and I both yelled at him.

"I feel proud," I said quickly. "Of Sesshomaru."

Sesshomaru's eyes met mine, but I couldn't say the rest of this while I looked at him. I turned to Mr. Yasha.

"I like Sesshomaru." Understatement of the year/ "Sesshomaru is a terrific drum major. Working with a partner has been hard for him after he was drum major by himself last year. All things considered, I think he'd handled it pretty well. Except that pesky problem of not knowing his left from his right—

"I had a fever!"

"Don't interrupt," said MR. Yasha.

"And I feel proud of myself," I went on. It's been hard on me, too. I never expected to be drum major this year. There have been times when I wanted to give it up. But I could never give it up after Mr. Onigumo acted like a girl couldn't do it. Now any girl can do it. Ayame can try out if she wants to."

"Yeah. I've got my eye on Ayame for drum major a few years down the road," Mr. Yasha said. "She keeps writing concertos and handing them in to me for no apparent reason. Some kind of idiot savant."

"I thought you weren't supposed to interrupt me," I said.

"Seriously," Mr. Yasha said to Sesshomaru. "Does Ayame talk?"

"No," said Sesshomaru.

"Maybe that's because you don't let her get a word in edgewise!" I shouted. Now that I'd started this "I feel" crap, I wasn't letting go. "I feel frustrated."

"Tell us why you feel frustrated," Mr. Yasha said calmly.

"I feel frustrated because Sesshomaru and I have different styles of drum majoring. I discuss things with people." I realized I was still yelling myself, and I lowered my voice. "I think both styles could work. But Sesshomaru won't let me find out whether my style works. Every time I try to solve a problem by discussing things with people, Sesshomaru comes up behind me and yells. And if one drum major is discussing something with you but the drum major is yelling at you, you're naturally going to obey the one yelling at you."

Sesshomaru started, "I don't—

"Nnnn," said MR. Yasha, waving a hand at Sesshomaru.

"It's like I'm the mother," I said, "and Sesshomaru is the father who shouts all the time. I don't want to be the mother."

"Do you want to be the father?" Sesshomaru asked.

"I'm too young to be either. I want to be the freaking drum major!"

I tried to slow my breathing down, I felt like an idiot, getting all worked up. And I expected Mr. Yasha and Sesshomaru to make sarcastic comments about it.

But Mr. Yasha just considered me soberly, slowly clicking a ballpoint pen open and closed, like he took this very seriously.

I could feel Sesshomaru staring at me too. I was afraid to look in his direction and see that smirk still on his face. Finally I turned to Sesshomaru, ready to defend myself. But he looked serious too. Like it mattered to him how I felt.

Mr. Yasha leaned back in his chair and put his pen down. "That's great, Higurashi. Taisho, do you have a response to this?"

Still eyeing me, Sesshomaru said, "I don't come up behind her and yell when she's talking to people."

"Higurashi," Mr. Yasha, "can you give Taisho some examples of times when he's done this?"

"Last Friday when I was getting us into the backseat of the bus. Last Friday when I was breaking up a fight on the bus. Wednesday when the trumpets started the lawn mower and rode it around the football field. Yesterday—

"That's enough," Mr. Yasha said.

"You're not supposed to interrupt," I said.

"We don't have all day." Mr. Yasha said. "We've got to practice the homecoming parade eventually. Taisho, now that Higurashi has listed your offenses, can you see you're doing this?"

"Yes," Sesshomaru told me.

"And can you make an effort to quit stepping on her toes?"

Sesshomaru closed his eyes. "Yes."

"Great," said MR. Yasha. "One problem solved. What else, Higurashi?"

I should have just left it there. But a girl doesn't get this kind of opportunity with a boy very often. The opportunity to make him _explain_ himself.

"I feel confused," I said. "About the hand."

Mr. Yasha looked from me to Sesshomaru and back. "Go on."

"Sesshomaru knows what I mean."

Mr. Yasha and I both turned to Sesshomaru.

Sesshomaru shrugged. "I don't even remember the hand."

"Obviously you do," I said, "or you wouldn't know what I'm talking about."

Mr. Yasha came halfway out of his chair to lean across the desk in Sesshomaru's direction. "You're about to be in big trouble, Taisho. I told you that if you hurt my drum major—

"I didn't hurt her," Sesshomaru said. Jaw set, he was getting angry again. "I wouldn't hurt her."

"Then where did you have your hand?" Mr. Yasha asked suspiciously.

"On her _hand_."

Mr. Yasha sat down, looking dumbfounded. At a loss for words. For once. Then he snorted. "Taisho, we need to have a talk."

"Miroku already told me that," Sesshomaru said.

"Who?" Mr. Yasha's brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Houshi," Sesshomaru said.

"Oh yeah," Mr. Yasha said. "Trombone section leader, right? I think he'd responsible for that blasted 'ooooooh, aaaaah.' Unless _you_ started it."

Sesshomaru blinked innocently.

"I want my question answered," I said.

"I don't think you're going to get an honest answer until we work out some of the bigger stuff," Mr. Yasha told me. "Why don't you tell us about piercing you nose?"

I was tempted. But there was no way I could tell Mr. Yasha about my dad. "Let Sesshomaru have a turn."

Mr. Yasha and I turned to Sesshomaru expectantly.

Sesshomaru shook his head like he couldn't believe this was happening. Finally he said, "I feel…..threatened."

Mr. Yasha said, "No shit."

Sesshomaru glared at him.

"Sorry," said Mr. Yasha. "Totally inappropriate comment from the family counselor. Go on."

Sesshomaru ran his hands back through his hair. I knew we were about to find out about the stuff going on at home.

"I always thought I was going to college," he said. "My parents had a college fund for me. Then my mother got pregnant. And in August my parents told me she's pregnant with twins."

What a relief! His mother didn't have cancer. She wasn't dying of anything. But I could see how getting two new siblings when he was seventeen years old would cause huge problems for Sesshomaru.

And of course I said the perfect thing to comfort him. "Are you Gemini?"

"Higurashi," Mr. Yasha scolded me. Then he said to Sesshomaru, "I think I see what the matter is. You were the youngest child. The irresponsible black sheep of the Taisho Mafia. Now, without warning, you're replaced."

"That's not it," Sesshomaru said. "Well, sort of. But the bigger thing is that my mother's having health problems. It's hard on your body to have twins, especially when you're 42. She had to quit her job. So we're low on money. My father's working all the overtime he can get at the mill. And I can't have my college fund."

He swallowed and ran his hands through his hair again. "They're telling me I have to do my work plus Dad's work on the farm. I have to get a high score on the SAT and get a scholarship, or I can't go to college. I have to be responsible in the first place. How is all of this my responsibility? I wasn't even in the same county. I was at an Auburn baseball game with Miroku while my parents were drinking one too many margaritas and having sex without using birth control."

Mr. Yasha cleared his throat and stood. "Taisho, I think we've made a lot of progress this session, and you can pay my hundred and fifty dollars to the receptionist—

"You started this!" Sesshomaru yelled.

"You're right," Mr. Yasha said, sitting down.

Sesshomaru lowered his voice. "I don't know what I got on the SAT. I did the best I could. I need to stay drum major so my extracurricular activities will show a position of responsibility. I've done the best I could as drum major. It was the only sure thing I had left. Last year I got high marks at all three contests, and I won two of them. But for all that, Mr. Onigumo demoted me. He made me co-drum major. And now…" he gestured to Mr. Yasha— "you keep threatening to fire me. Was I supposed to win the third contest? Would that have been good enough?"

"Don't take it personally, Taisho," said Mr. Yasha. "I was only manipulating you."

Sesshomaru didn't react to what Mr. Yasha said. He looked straight ahead, through Mr. Yasha. "My granddad worked his whole life in the cotton mill. My dad has worked his whole life in the cotton mill. There was no way I was going to work in that cotton mill, ever."

He closed his eyes, took in a long breathe and let it out slowly. His shoulders sagged. He said quietly, "I wanted to go to veterinary school."

"Lots of people got to the junior college for the first two years, to save money," I suggested. "Then they transfer to Auburn."

"Both my brothers went to the junior college," Sesshomaru said, nodding. "And do you know what they're doing now?"

I winced. "Working in the cotton mill?"

"They're working in the cotton mill!" He was shaking. I wondered if his father had ever allowed him to get this upset in his life.

Sesshomaru said to the filing cabinet behind Mr. Yasha, "God, they keep after me all the time, telling me what to do, and telling me how irresponsible I am. Sometimes I start to believe it. I should go ahead and get a job in the mill. It's inevitable anyway, right? Drop out of school. Move in with my brother. Send my parents money to pay them back for raising me. Help finance their new push to populate the earth."

I looked at Mr. Yasha in alarm.

He shook his head at me: _Don't worry_.

Don't worry! I put my hand over Sesshomaru's trembling hand on the edge of his chair, and squeezed, and didn't let go. Then I asked Mr. Yasha, "Did they teach you to do this in your education classes in college?"

"No," Mr. Yasha said. "In fact, if my advisor saw this, she'd shit right now."

"You're not listening to me!" Sesshomaru shouted.

"Yes, we are," Mr. Yasha said in a soothing psychiatrist voice I'd never heard from him. Like he'd learned something in his education classes after all.

"No, you're not," Sesshomaru said. "You're from Big Pine. Big Pine doesn't have a cotton mill."

"Big Pines has a paper mill," Mr. Yasha said in the same low voice. "Maybe dad works in the paper mill."

I saw then that Mr. Yasha might talk tough to Sesshomaru, and Sesshomaru might lash back at Mr. Yasha, but they got from each other something they didn't get from the men in their families.

They understood each other.

In his normal voice Sesshomaru said, "I feel…better." He squeezed my hand back and looked over at me, half-smiling?

"Isn't that amazing?" Mr. Yasha said. "Talking about your feelings helps you let go of your anger. And it takes a lot of energy to be angry all the time."

"You should know," I said.

"I'm working on it. I need to work on it more because Rin thinks I'm a nutcase."

I jumped as the heavy door to the band room crashed open. The line of the boys dropped instrument cases on the floor with periodic _thunks_, and a saxophone player warmed up with scales and arpeggios. Just like the day in Sesshomaru's truck, it had seemed for the last hour like the world had been shut out, and there was no one but me and Sesshomaru.

And—oh yeah—our insane band director.

Mr. Yasha stood up behind his desk. But I wasn't ready to go. I couldn't bare my feelings to Sesshomaru (and our insane band director), and listen to Sesshomaru bare his feelings to me (and our insane band director), and suddenly face the band again like snapping my fingers. I didn't think Sesshomaru could either.

I let Sesshomaru's hand go and slipped my arm protectively around him.

Mr. Yasha got my message. "I'll be in big trouble if I let you make out in my office."

"I feel fed up," I told him. "Would you please stop saying that Sesshomaru and I are making out or feeling each other up? Would you please stop trying to trick Sesshomaru into saying he thinks I'm pretty? Sesshomaru and I are friends. Just friends."

Mr. Yasha gave me the stare.

And this time I had to look away.

He stood there for a moment more. Just long enough to make me feel as uncomfortable as possible. Then he said, "I'll go direct band practice. Remember the band? The marching band?" He opened the office door, letting in the giggles of the freshman girls and the loud honks of the trombone chasing them. "Come out when you're ready." He closed the door behind him.

When Mr. Yasha was with us and I'd held Sesshomaru's hand, I was just trying to hold Sesshomaru steady. Now that Sesshomaru and I were along again, the tingle returned. I rubbed my hand on his back, and fire shot up my arm.

He took several long, slow breathes, like he was trying to recollect himself. Then he turned to me. His eyes glistened. He said again, "I feel better."

I reached out a finger to touch a tear at the corner of his lashes.

He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Then he looked around on the floor beneath his chair. "Did you lose your shoes again?" I asked.

"No, my bravado." He laughed. "I know I left it around here somewhere."


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own this story at all.

Major Crush

Chapter 14

Sango looked beautiful reigning over the homecoming float, and of course she had the pageant smile and the pageant wave down pat. Sure enough, Yura refused to ride on the float as Miss Victory. Good riddance. The homecoming committee pulled the crepe paper letters spelling MISS VICTORY out of the chicken wire on the back of the float and replaced them with white toilet paper before the parade started.

The parade went great. The band sounded terrific, and the crowd cheered wildly as we passed through the downtown streets, as if we did not suck. Sesshomaru and I were relieved because we hadn't practiced the parade formation very much. We'd been too busy perfecting the halftime show for the contest the next weekend.

Then, at the homecoming game, the halftime show went great. This was the first game our hometown crowd had seen us in non-suck-o mode. When Sesshomaru and I did the dip, I felt the force of the crowd's noise hit me in the side of the face. And at the end of the show, they went crazy again. The standing ovation was longer and louder than the one in Llama Town.

Sesshomaru and I brought up the rear of the band marching off the field. As soon as we passed through the fence, we turned to each other and grabbed each other in a long hug.

Even though we did not like each other as more than friends. Because Sesshomaru was dating Miss Icktory's twin sister.

And then, over Sesshomaru's shoulder, I saw Hojo.

Or did i? He looked like Hojo, but older. He'd gotten taller. And he'd grown a beard.

I'd already let Sesshomaru go in surprise at seeing Hojo there. Now I was caught in an impossible situation. I wanted to go hug my best friend who wanted to be my boyfriend and who I did not want to be my boyfriend. If I didn't, he'd be offended. With this added to the "talking to you is like talking to a girl" incident, he might never speak to me again.

But even more I wanted to keep hugging my partner who I wanted to be my boyfriend and who did not want to be my boyfriend. If I didn't…

Well, he didn't Sesshomaru turned to see what I was looking at, then walked away from me without another word to me. As he passed Hojo, he nodded and said evenly, "Hojo."

Hojo said, "General."

Sesshomaru punched Hojo on the shoulder and kept walking.

"What's eating him?" Hojo asked me, rubbing his shoulder. Then he hugged me. He'd missed me. I would have missed him, too, except that so much had been going on with band, and Sesshomaru.

"What's the occasion? You _do_ seem taller than the last time I saw you. Lots taller. Six inches taller."

"Six inches in two weeks? I think that would be painful." He still stared thoughtfully at his leg. I'd embarrassed him.

TO change the subject, I asked, "What's in the box?" and realized too late that I didn't want to know.

"I brought something for you," he said. He showed me the clear plastic box with a homecoming corsage inside.

I peered at the chrysanthemum decorated in the school colors. It was no uglier than every other girl's homecoming corsage, but it looked unspeakably ugly to me.

Because when I put it on, it would mean that I was on a date with Hojo.

"I figured you wouldn't mind," he said, "since we're already dating."

"_What?"_

"Yeah, I head you couldn't go out with Koga because you and I are dating."

"Sesshomaru just blurted that out to Koga so I wouldn't have to go out with him."

His eyes stared hard at me. That look made him seem older and wiser like seeing something in me they hadn't seen before.

Finally he said, "I'm glad Sesshomaru's so worried about your virtue."

"My virt— Hojo, I challenge you to go two minutes without saying anything about sex. I'll bet you can't do it." I looked at my watch.

"Two whole minutes? If I can do it, what's the prize at the end? Can I choose?"

"That's pretty good. Five seconds." I looked back at the flower. "Hojo, it's so sweet that you brought me a corsage." I meant to mean it. "But I can't wear it while I'm directing. It'll get in the way."

"Good point. It might not survive with you waving your arms around. We don't want you deflowering yourself all over the stadium."

I slapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey!" he yelled. "one drum major per shoulder. You take the left, and Patton can have the right."

"Hojo," I said in a low voice. "Please don't call him tat anymore. I'm trying to get along with him."

"Yes, your highness." He patted the box. "I'll just hold this for you."

"Good idea."

We walked around to the concession stand, got Cokes, and pushed our way up the stands to the band section. The drums crowded around him at one point, cheering, "He's back! Hey, bus boy!" Then Sango ran up squealing to hug him, but the majorettes distracted her. A football player's pants were torn, and they were trying to figure out whether he wore flesh-colored pads.

Mostly Hojo and I were alone for the third quarter off. I didn't ask him why he hadn't e-mailed me. I hoped he hadn't really been that mad at me about our argument at the bus. I hoped he'd gotten busy with school and hadn't had time to write. I hoped he was getting involved with activities there, new friends, girls. Of course, if that happened, he wouldn't have come home and half-asked me to homecoming without paying attention to my answer. I like Hojo so much—as a friend, hello!—and I hated the feeling that our friendship was about to fall backward off a cliff.

He told me he was amazed that the band, especially the drums, sounded to much better. I sketched for him why Sesshomaru and I had decided to get along. He didn't seem interested. He told me stories about the weirdo art school kids who smoked pot and wore black.

Sesshomaru stood near the aisle with his brothers. He was a little taller than either of them. They laughed with him and told him he'd done a great job. He kept glancing past them to me like he wanted to introduce me to his brothers: Kaito and Mikashi, who probably never noticed me when I was a freshman and he was drum major.

I didn't know how to handle this. I couldn't tell Hojo I wanted to leave him to meet Sesshomaru's brothers. Hojo could have introduced me to his brothers at any time in the past month and a half that we'd been working together. It kind of irked me that Sesshomaru had suddenly decided I was worth knowing.

"Kagome," Sesshomaru called sharply.

I looked up. It was fourth quarter. Behind me, the band was back in place. Depending on whether the team scored, we might have to play the fight song at any second. I should have been watching the game, not chatting with Hojo.

I was such a slacker drum major! I was glad I had Sesshomaru there to be alert for me. When he didn't have a fever.

"Kagome!" Sesshomaru stood in front of me, jaw clenched. He held out a hand to me.

"Cutting in?" Hojo asked.

"Hojo.." Sesshomaru started.

"Nnnn," I said, waving my hand between them. One could learn much from Mr. Yasha. If one could stop oneself from saying "shit." I stood and let Sesshomaru pull me toward the aisle, away from Hojo.

We faced the field so Sesshomaru could watch the game. Or so Hojo couldn't see what we said. Sesshomaru put his arm around my waist so the band could see we were friends. Or so Hojo would think we were more.

Sesshomaru said, "Hojo has to go."

"But it's homecoming. And he's home."

"Kagome. Nobody in band gets to sit with their date during fourth quarter. That's why we get third quarter off."

"He's not my.." I stopped. I guessed Hojo _was_ my date. I wasn't sure. Technically, there had been no receipt of corsage.

I glanced behind me at Kagura up in the stands. Or the other one, whichever. She stared me down, trying to freeze me with her supervillain ice-vision.

She overflowed with corsage. This sucker was a huge chrysanthemum with all the bells and whistles—ribbons, golden plastic footballs, pipe cleaners shaped into the school letters.

I turned back to Sesshomaru. "Hojo hasn't been gone that long. He's really still part of the band."

"Then he should be in his section, with the drums."

"He can't do that. He's not in band anymore."

"Then send him out. Don't try to argue logic backward and forward with me, Kagome. I just took the SAT."

He had me. And I'd had enough. "What do you care if he sits down here with me?"

"You know you wouldn't let Kagura sit down here with me."

"Of course I would. Let's call her down. Hojo and I would enjoy the pleasure of her company."

Sesshomaru slipped his hand to my hip and bent his head closer to mine. "Look, Kagome. I'm discussing this with you calmly. I'm not stepping on your toes. I'm doing what I agreed to do in the meeting this afternoon with Mr. Yasha. But in a minute, I'll start yelling."

"All right!" I yelled.

As I approached Hojo, he stood. "Patton wants me out?"

I stopped myself asking him again not to call Sesshomaru that. I was again beginning to think it fit. "Sorry," I said.

"You don't have to obey him, you know. You're drum major too."

"I told you. I'm trying to get along with him."

"I know you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He shook his head and moved toward the student section across the aisle from the band. "I'll see you after."

I couldn't wait.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own this story!

Major Crush

Chapter 15

After the game, Sango and I went home to change. Hojo waited at Sango's house rather than mine because her parents like him better.

This was perfect for my purposes. It made sense for three of us to ride together to Koga's party a mile around the lakeshore. Otherwise, Sango would have taken her car, and Hojo and I would have ridden together. Alone.

More good luck: When she got into the car, Sango sat on Hojo's corsage. Now I wouldn't have to make a bad excuse about how wearing it would poke a hole in my t-shirt.

That's where my luck ran out. My heart sank as I drove near Koga's house and saw how far away I'd have to park to get a place on the side of the road. I'd hoped it would be a small party, so fewer people would see me with Hojo. But Koga didn't throw small parties.

With every step down the driveway, o felt more nauseated. But there was nothing else to do. I put a smile on my face before I walked into the house crowded with the entire band and lots more people from school.

I kept telling myself that no one would notice Hojo and I were together. After all, I'd driven him to parties before. Nothing had changed. Let me repeat: There had been no official receipt of corsage.

Something had changed. Renkotsu stopped me and congratulated me on "finally hooking up." Then Tonya, Paula, and Mich called me over and told me that Hojo was "sooooo cuuuuuuute!" Oh dear.

It wasn't that I was embarrassed to date Hojo, himself. Tonya, Paula, and Mich were right. He was very cute. And he was fun to watch as he walked around the party. He just laughed when the trombones quizzed him on his beard and the drums called him "bus boy." He was only a sophomore, but he carried himself well around the seniors. Which was better than I could do half the time.

It was more a feeling of complete revulsion. My head told me that Hojo and I would make a good couple. Despite my head, my body flinched when he touched me. But maybe this was normal for new couples, and as time passed, people got over the vague felling of nausea.

Like I knew!

And oh, let's not forget that I wanted to keep myself open for Sesshomaru. Who did not even seem to be at the party. Who must have been off having a private moment with Kagura.

I had a couple of tricks to keep the pressure off. I tried to get Sango to stay with Hojo and me. Sometimes I lost Hojo in the crowd. When he found me, I suggested that we also find Sango because she was there alone.

Sango flitted from group. I needed her to cling to me, and I tried to communicate this to her with special looks. But there's just so much you can get across with gritted teeth and a raised eyebrow, even to your best friend.

My other trick was to haunt the buffet. Yes, there was actually a catered buffet set up in the kitchen. Dad always said Mr. Wolf ( yes, Koga's dad) threw money at his children to make up for leaving their mother. I thought Dad had a lot of nerve to say this.

Anyway, the buffet was very good, and I'd skipped lunch. I'd eaten a huge supper, but I was trying to get away from Hojo here. I went back so many times that Koga, who refilled the trays from boxes in the refrigerator, probably thought I was coming on to him.

On my seventeenth return to the rec room with my mouth full, Sango tried to tell me something. We were near the stereo speakers, and I could hear her. I thought she said she was leaving.

Panic! She couldn't leave. What if Koga ran out of food?

She motioned toward the front door. I followed her out onto the porch. Hojo followed me.

The huge porch was packed with outdoor furniture. The furniture was packed with people making out.

"I'm leaving," Sango said.

"What?" I exclaimed in fake surprise. "Why so soon?"

"Nothing to keep me here." She wore the pageant smile, but I knew she was upset. She might have been the only homecoming queen in the history of football without a date to homecoming. I was impressed she'd lasted this long without a meltdown.

I squinted to see what she was staring at in the dark. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust, but finally I saw the touch football game over on the lawn. Miroku and Suikotsu versus all eight girl trumpets.

"Take off your heels," I suggested. "I'm sure they'll let you play. You're Miss Homecoming."

"I hate this town," she said.

Now she was looking at the cars parked in Koga's driveway. That's when I saw Sesshomaru. And Kagura. Leaning against the farm truck. Kagura lit a cigarette.

"At least they're not getting dirty with each other," Sango said. "He hasn't touched her hand." I'd told Sango about the whole hand-whore episode.

"What?" Hojo asked.

"Inside joke," I said.

"But _I'm_ on the inside," he said. "Aren't I?"

The three of us stood there awkwardly.

"So, I'm going home," Sango said. The pageant smile had returned.

"How?" Hojo asked.

"I'll walk."

"It's dark," I said. "Call your dad to come get you." The more obvious plan would have been for me to take her home, but I was the Evil Triplet. My need to spy on my nonboyfriend overrode my desire to help my best friend.

She shrugged and said again, "I'll just walk."

"Let me take you," I said half-heartedly.

"Oh, no," she said, glancing over at Sesshomaru. "I don't think your work is done here."

If her comment offended Hojo, he hid it. He put his hand on her shoulder. "You want me to walk you?"

"Sweetie. No thanks."

I touched her elbow. "Call me to let me know you got there."

"No prob. Ta."

"Ta," Hojo and I said.

We watched her walk up the driveway, past Sesshomaru and Kagura. Kagura was too much into Sesshomaru to notice her sister's arch-rival. She eyed Sesshomaru and blew smoke out the side of her mouth, away from him, like an expert.

I wasn't sure, but it didn't seem smart to lean against a truck while smoking a cigarette. What if there was an explosion and Sesshomaru was blown to smithereens? Would Mr. Yasha fire me and replace me with Naraku? Did he see Sesshomaru and me as a package?

I turned back to Hojo. He was looking in the direction I'd been looking.

Better to admit it. "I was just thinking the Evil Twin might ignite the gas tank."

Hojo watched Kagura and Sesshomaru for a few seconds more, then turned back to me without saying anything.

"You're out," I said.

"Of?"

"One-liners."

"Oh!" he said. "I thought you meant I was out of the picture."

"Thank goodness you're back," I said.

We laughed. Then his smile faded, and I felt mine disappearing too. We were talking about young love.

_Weren't _we?

I looked back to Sesshomaru. He was kissing the twin.

_Ack, Sesshomaru was kissing the Evil Twin!_

He had his hand on her waist. Unh, that was supposed to be my waist! He used his other hand to brace himself on the truck, and he bent to kiss her, a long hot kiss.

Well, it couldn't have been too hot a kiss, because she had the presence of mind to flick ash from her cigarette onto the driveway while it was going on.

I turned back to Hojo. He was watching me.

Then I got an idea. It was the make-out porch. I could make out with Hojo.

"Want to sit down?" I asked, nodding toward an empty—err—love seat.

"Why not?" he asked.

I could think of a lot of reasons why not.

We sat close but not touching, and joked quietly about the other couples making out. We rated them each with an artistic and a technical score. We did not rate Sesshomaru and Kagura.

I offered Hojo all kinds of hints, but he wouldn't make a move on me. I sidled a little closer to him, so our knees touched, and gave him what I thought was a pointed look. I didn't want to make the first move. He was still crushing on me, and it would be cruel to lead him on.

But if he made the move on me, I could be nice and just enjoy it while we were in public, and then explain that I wasn't interested when we were alone. After I'd made my point to Sesshomaru.

The only problem with this plan was that Hojo wouldn't cooperate. He wouldn't take the hint. Or he got the hint, but he was being stubborn for some reason.

I knocked my knee against his knee.

He looked down at our knees, but didn't otherwise move.

I reached out and touched his hand with one finger.

This time he looked up at me, and I knew for sure he was being stubborn. He was too smart for this. There was a reason he'd gotten into the State School for Fine Arts.

We stared at each other, and the air was electric between us.

My cell phone rang.

As I half-stood to pull it out of my pocket, I saw that Sesshomaru had turned toward me, with his arm still braced on the truck, very close to Kagura.

Sango was calling to tell me she'd gotten home okay. When I clicked the phone off, Hojo asked, "Are you ready to go?"

I thought he knew I was crushing on Sesshomaru, and he knew I was only here to see Sesshomaru, and he knew he wasn't helping me give Sesshomaru the proper show. But I couldn't be sure.

Sesshomaru kissed Kagura's neck.

"Yes," I said.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own this story!

Major Crush

Chapter 16

I drove Hojo across town. Neither of us said anything for the whole ride, which was probably the first time that had ever happened between us. Last year we couldn't even shut up when we were supposed to be standing at attention on the football field in the drum line.

I pulled my car into the campground and stopped at the door of the bus. His mother's car wasn't there, of course. The lights were off in the nearby trailers.

I was half-hoping he would jump out and go inside before I even turned off the motor, but I knew he wouldn't. Something was going to happen. I turned off the motor. 

We sat there in the quiet dark. I stared straight ahead at the bus. In the years since Hojo had painted and cracked. The original yellow showed through.

The air around us began to spark again. We still weren't doing or saying anything, but that was the whole point. The quiet was so strange, and it said everything for us. Finally, after about two minutes of complete silence, I looked at him. He was watching me. I stared back at him.

I wondered why I didn't give. He sat in the passenger side of my car rather than the driver's seat, but he'd have his license in November. And he might not be as tall as Sesshomaru, but he was taller than me by quite a bit, and who knew how tall he'd be in a few months?

And he was very good-looking, with the expressive eyes that always told on him. Now they were telling me that he had my number. He knew I'd tried to lead him on. He was mad about it. And he wasn't leaving this car until he got some. But he was going to make me wait.

I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel and wished I had my drumsticks. Better to meet the problem head-on, right? Still tapping, I said, "At the party. On the porch. You knew what I wanted."

"Yes."

"And you wouldn't give it to me."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I didn't choose to help the cause."

"Fair enough," I said. Suddenly I stopped tapping and pounded both hands in the steering wheel. "I can't believe you're playing hard to get!"

"Me neither." He crossed his legs. "I'm afraid you're going to take advantage of me."

"I wouldn't have to if you would take advantage of me first!" Time to bring out the heavy artillery. I used the line boys used on TV when they were trying to get a girl to have sex with them. "You would if you loved me."

Of course I was kidding. But I'd thought about it for two seconds, I could have predicted what Hojo would say to that.

"I do love you."

The air between us sparked until I almost thought I could hear the tiny explosions.

"But I'm still not going to kiss you in front of Sesshomaru Taisho just so you can make him jealous," he said. "Or kiss you now because you're horny for Sesshomaru.

"Really?" I asked. "Then why are you still in the car?"

"Good point."

Hojo would argue with me all night. Oh, what the hell. I leaned over and kissed him.

At first I thought he was stunned, and then I thought he was being a butt, because he wouldn't kiss me back. He didn't move. I moved to the corner of his mouth to see if that worked any better,

Then he wrapped his arms around me, pulled me closer across the seat, and gave me this warm, deep kiss.

Hojo was a great kisser. Not that I had a whole lot to go on. The last time I'd kissed a boy was at the movies in eighth grade. The wonders of PG-13 had gotten everyone excited, and I couldn't quite manage to get away. After that, nothing for three years. The nose stud scared them off. 

But even I could tell that Hojo was doing this right. There wasn't enough tongue to be gross, but just enough to wake me up. I mean, this boy was _walking me up_. It occurred to me that Sesshomaru wasn't the only playboy in the band. Hojo had spent part of last year working his way along the clarinet line. It was paying off. For me.

This did not feel right. But it felt good.

I was giving Hojo what he wanted. If his crush on me was anything like my crush on Sesshomaru, he'd probably dreamed for the past two years about kissing me. I was making my friend happy.

There was no way I could pull out now. Hojo would hate me forever.

I could do this. I could do this for me and Hojo. I could pretend Hojo was Sesshomaru.

His hand slid down my arm, and he interlaced his fingers with mine. His thumb rubbed my thumb.

I jerked away from him and backed across the seat, into the door.

He stared at me dumbly for a moment. "I knew it," he muttered. Then he shouted at me, "I_knew_ it! This is why I went away to school!"

"No, it isn't," I said, trying to slow down my panting. "You went away to school because you're a good musician and an incredible writer, and you wanted to get a better education. And running water."

He looked at the bus. "I'd drop out and come back in a heartbeat to be with you."

"I know. That's why it's called a crush. It weighs you down and keeps you from doing what you really wanted to do."

"What I really want to do is be with you."

Before I could stop him, he got out, closed the door, and walked toward the bus.

I was going to let him go. Anything else I did would just mess it up worse. But I finally opened my door and leaned out. "Walter," I called. "I don't want to leave it like this. I want us to stay friends."

He whirled around at the steps to the bus. "It's not all about you, Kagome. And sometimes you don't get what you want." He mounted the steps and slammed the door behind him. Which was difficult, because it was a folding door with a lever.

I waited for him to light a candle or a lantern in the bus. I watched from my car for a long time, but the bus stayed dark. 


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own this story!

Major Crush

Chapter 17

When I got home that night, Dad was at the hospital delivering a baby. It was Mom who was waiting for me, dozing on the couch with the Weather Channel on. I wondered why my parents had taken watching the Weather Channel all of a sudden, like they were expecting a storm.

Mom was still in full makeup and looked like a magazine layout for expensive pjs, lying there in her negligee. Now, I don't mean to give the impression that my mother never got dressed. She didn't lie around in her negligee all day. Well, I guess she _did_, about two years ago. But she was depressed then, and it only lasted a week.

I lay down on the couch with my back to her front.

She stirred, pulled part of her silk robe over me, and kissed my hair. "You did do well today."

"Thanks."

"The band was night and day compared to two weeks ago. You've done a wonderful job with them. You and Sesshomaru. I'm so proud of you."

I tried not to shiver under her robe. "Thanks."

"And didn't Sango look glamorous in the parade?"

I looked down at Mom's hand resting beside mine. My fingernails were unpolished and cut down to the quick. Hers were long and red and freshly, professionally manicured.

"You know Sango has a big pageant tomorrow," I said.

"I know."

"Would you like to go?"

"Of course. I might go."

"I mean, would you like for you and me to go with Sango and her mom?" Before she got the wrong impression, I hurried on, "I don't think I'll ever do pageants again myself. I've had enough. But I want to support Sango. I feel bad that I haven't gone with her in the past two years. And the one tomorrow is so important."

"I think that would be fun," Mom said.

I fell asleep lying on the couch with her, wrapped in her silk, just like I used to.

And that's how I came to be riding back from Gadsden late Saturday evening with Mom, Sango's mom, Sango, and a pageant trophy the size of a refrigerator. It took up the whole payload section of the SUV and extended above the back seat, with the pageant girl on top poking between Mom and Sango's mom in the front.

When Sango's mom pulled into her driveway, I realized I didn't want the day to end. Sango had almost convinced me that Hojo would get over our fight. It made me feel good to be around Sango, and I'd missed spending whole pageant days with her.

I glanced over at her. She looked so pretty. And very funny in a T-shirt, torn jeans, high heels, pageant makeup, pageant hair, and tiara.

We couldn't extract the tiara without washing her hair and starting all over again. She'd pulled out the majorette tiara before she went to Koga's party the night before, but that was majorette hair. Pageant hair was another animal. This was some high hair. You teased it and sprayed it until it was mostly air, with a shell of hair around it. The tiara was secured so tightly with pins and hairspray that it was practically glued in place.

Someone else should share this joke. It was a shame that no one from school ever saw her this way.

The pageant trophy was worth showing off too.

I had an idea. I never thought Sango would go along with it. And it wasn't long until our midnight curfew. But we dropped off our moms, borrowed Sango's mom's SUV still loaded with the trophy, and headed for Burger Bob's.

I'd had fun at the pageant. I was glad we'd all gone together, just like old times. But after twelve hours, _man_, what a relief to e rid of the moms! I rolled down my window—Sango couldn't roll hers down because the wind would destroy the hair helmet—and we cranked up the stereo. I pulled off the shoes my mom had made me wear inside the pageant showrooms. We sang along at the top of our lungs to songs on the radio.

After a few minutes Sango turned to the volume down. "Serious convo for a minute."

Uh-oh, she was pulling at her earring. That meant it was _really_ serious.

"No!" I turned the volume back up.

"Just for a minute." She turned the volume down. "I know you still care how you look. You haven't been wearing makeup, but you've been plucking you eyebrows, and I've seen the Proactiv in your bathroom. You go barefoot, but you're taking really good care of your toenails. And you're still using a pumice stone on that weird-looking place your big toe."

I stuck out my tongue at her.

She went on, "When you stopped going to pageants, it was so sudden. And remember how hard we worked on your baton routine, and how happy we were when you made the majorette? Over night, you decided you didn't want to be a majorette anymore. It hurt my feelings. You know it hurt my feelings. You never hurt my feelings on purpose. Something happened to you."

I turned the radio volume back up.

She turned it back down. "Will you tell me someday?"

I said somberly, "Yes, I'll tell you someday."

She turned the radio up. I turned it back down. "By the way," I said, "while we're having serious convo. I'm glad you're going to Burger Bob's with me. I wish you would do stuff like this more often. I wish you wouldn't go around with your head in the clouds _all _the time."

"It's safer up here."

"I know. But Sango, you were really unhappy last night. I've never seen such an unhappy homecoming queen."

She pulled at her earring.

"I'm not saying you should come down to earth. If you're on cloud nine, I'm suggesting that you come down to cloud six, six and a half."

"Maybe," she said as she turned that SUV in at Burger Bob's.

She pulled into the front parking space, nearest the road. This was the unofficial place where boys parked in the winter, during hunting season, and showed off the huge deer they'd killed in the woods that day.

She opened the hatchback, and both of us struggled to slide out the huge trophy and set it on the pavement. We sat on wither side of the bumper.

Immediately people cruising from Burger Bob's to the movie theater and back honked their horns at us. Sango gave them her special pageant wave. And then someone hollered, "Hey, it's JonBenet!"

"Oh no," I said. I watched Miroku's car turn off the street and into the Burger Bob's parking lot.

Sango laughed. "What do you mean, 'Oh no'?"

I looked at Sango like she was crazy. "Sesshomaru's here!"

"You knew you might see him tonight. That's the only reason I agreed to come here with you."

Before I could think of a comeback, Miroku pulled his car into the parking space next to us. Miroku, Koga, and Suikotsu piled out of the car, crowded around us, and gave the trophy an "oooooh, aaaaaaah." Sesshomaru hung behind them, watching me.

"That's a big 'un," Miroku told Sango in a dead-on redneck accent, which was hilarious from this guy.

"Reckon it is," Sango responded in a dead-on redneck accent of her own.

I turned to stare at her in amazement and new admiration.

"What'd you use to bag him?" Miroku asked. "A twelve-gauge or a thirty-aught-six?"

"My feminine wiles," she said, batting her eyelashes. "And a thirty-aught-six."

He stepped closer to her. "I've been in class with you for eleven years, and I had no idea you had a sense of humor."

"Maybe I just don't laugh at your jokes. And maybe you're not as funny as you think." But she smiled at him. Not the pasted-on pageant smile, either. A genuine smile.

You go, girl. She was giving him the time of day. And he was giving it right back.

I boasted to the boys, "Today Sango was crowned Miss East-Central Alabama 2006."

The boys looked at me blankly.

"Now she gets to compete in the Miss State of Alabama pageant," I explained. "It's like shooting a fourteen-point buck."

"Oh," the boys said, nodding.

Koga and Suikotsu tried to talk to me, but I babbled on. I was completely distracted. I was listening to the rest of Sango and Miroku's conversation with one ear. Miroku was saying something about knowing a good taxidermist. And I had one eyes on Sesshomaru, who still shadowed Koga and Suikotsu.

Suddenly, when I was in midsentence answering Koga's question about the food at his party, Sesshomaru reached between Koga and Suikotsu, grabbed my wrist like he had that Friday night in the bathroom, and pulled me off the bumper.

I would have stopped him and jerked away, but it happened so fast. He opened the back door of Miroku's car, shoved me in, scooted in next to me, and closed the door behind him.

It was that familiar feeling. I was in the center of bustle, the traffic around Burger Bob's, but I was sealed off from the world. With Sesshomaru. I sat against the far door. He took up the rest of the seat, leaning so close to me that my skin tingled.

His low voice vibrated through me. "I'm sorry about that JonBenet comment. It wasn't me. It was Koga. He's still really interested in you."

I studied Sesshomaru, wondering what to make of this. Was Sesshomaru telling me Koga liked me because Sesshomaru didn't care? Or was Sesshomaru telling me because he did care, and he wanted to see my reaction? If this had been the eighth grade, I would have thrilled at playing mind games with a cute boy.

But I was tired of the mind games after last night with Hojo. And this was not the eighth grade, and this was not just any cute boy. This was Sesshomaru.

He studied me right back. "You look like a different person. I didn't even recognize you. I saw Sango first"

He meant that I'd poofed my hair and applied full makeup this morning. "I was going to be around Sango and other pageant girls all day," I explained. "I didn't want to look like that purple-haired assistant next to Anna Nicole Smith."

"You couldn't look like that girl if you tried. And I think you've tried."

I grinned. "Remember this picture. You may never see it again. This is what eyeliner looks like when you put it on right."

He frowned.

I shouldn't have reminded him about the twin.

"You look beautiful," he said. "You always look beautiful. Are you dating Hojo now?"

It took me a minute to catch up. I was still on "beautiful." _You always look beautiful_.

"What?" I said finally. "No, I'm not dating Hojo. But we made out Friday night."

Sesshomaru's frown deepened. I thought he might be just a little bit jealous. Hooray!

But then he said, "I have a lot of respect for Hojo. You've got to like a guy who takes living in a bus as well as he has. Don't play with him, okay? I can tell he really likes you."

I felt bad enough about Hojo without Sesshomaru giving me a guilt trip. Who did he think he was, ? "I wasn't playing with him," I said. "I was in the process of telling him that we should just be friends."

"Is that what you always do? Tell guys you want to be just friends with them, then make out with them?"

Well, I wasn't going to tell him that Hojo and in eighth grade were my entire experience. "Yes," I said, trying to sound offhanded. I glanced at the cars crawling in the drive-through lane. "Like takeout."

"Like a to-go box," Sesshomaru suggested.

"Exactly!"

"You told Mr. Yasha in his office on Friday that you and I are just friends. And you didn't make out with _me_."

"That would be because you're dating Miss Icktory's sister."

"No, I'm not. I broke up with her at Koga's party."

I tried not to laugh out loud. And failed. "I am so sorry!" I laughed. "Condolences. Why in the world did you break up with her?"

He laughed too. "She smokes."

"How do you know it's not Yura who smokes?"

"They both smoke."

"Are you sure? Have you seen them both smoking at the same time, in the same room?"

"Yes. And anyway, I only started dating her because the entire senior class warned me not to. Then, after she or Yura was evil to Sango, I didn't break up with her because everyone told me to—even though I should have. You know, I have a little problem with people telling me what to do."

"I hadn't noticed."

"But that wasn't fair to her, no matter how evil she or her sister is."

"I'm glad you're so worried about Kagura's and Hojo's feelings," I said, patting his knee. "Very responsible of you."

"Well." He winced like he'd been punched. "Right after you and Hojo left the party, Kagura let something slip about Sango."

I turned cold, just as I had in the school hallway outside the lunchroom the day before. "Something bad? Something racist?"

"I went home and took a shower."

Now _I_ winced. Gazing at the traffic cruising the strip in front of Burger Bob's, I couldn't imagine what it must be like to be Sango and to be stuck in this town until her graduation nest June. I was her best friend, and I couldn't imagine.

Giggles broke through the silence. _Sango's_ giggles. Miroku sat on the tailgate with her, gesturing widely to the huge trophy like he was selling it on the Home Shopping Network.

Sesshomaru went on, "And I wondered why Kagura couldn't have said something a few hours before, so I could have broken up with her earlier." He still looked pained, "At Koga's party I was only hanging on to her long enough to make you mad. That's not very responsible. My punishment for all this was that I had to kiss her while she was smoking. The things I go through for you." He pinned me to the door with his eyes. "Did it work?"

"Of course not. Or if it did, I wouldn't admit it. You're not the least bit upset that I made out with Hojo."

He frowned again. "I never thought you'd date Hojo. You're too much alike."

I thought about this. Weird, but he was right. No wonder Hojo made me nauseated. What girl wanted to date herself? "Perspicacious," I said. "More perspicacious than me."

He put his warm hand on my shoulder, then moved it up to massage the back of my neck. Terrific. Now I would walk around with another phantom limb. Sesshomaru's hand on my thigh, Sesshomaru's hand on my knee. Sesshomaru's thumb tracing my hand. Sesshomaru's hand on my neck.

"I feel happy," I said.

"I feel lust," he said.

Our eyes met. Then his gaze flicked down to my lips.

I giggled. _Stop giggling!_ "I feel expectant."

"But I also feel curious," he said.

"I'll just bet you do."

He laughed. "No. I mean…You look so different." He touched his nose at the position of my nose stud. "Tell me what happened to you."

A wave of longing washed over me. I'd wanted to tell Sango in the car. I wanted to tell Sesshomaru. But I couldn't. "I can't."

"You can. I was about thirty seconds from breaking down in Mr. Yasha's office. You know all of my secrets. And you managed to get out of there without telling us any of yours. Tell me what happened to you."

"I can't, Sesshomaru."

His warm hand moved up my neck to finger the hair at my nape. "Tell me," he said.

"My dad cheated on my mom."

His hand stopped on my neck.

I was stunned too that I'd said it.

"Your dad, Dr. Higurashi?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Cheated on your mom, who made me breakfast?"

"More than two years ago."

Sango's laughter rang out. Over at the SUV Miroku tapped on her hair helmet like he didn't believe real hair could be formed into that shape.

"You see why I can't tell anybody?" I asked. "My parents swore me to secrecy. It would ruin my dad's practice if anyone knew. Women would feel threatened. They want to imagine that their ob-gyn doesn't have sex. I can't even tell Sango. Especially not Sango, because our dads are partners."

His hand moved down my neck to my back and rubbed soothingly. It wasn't about lust anymore. It was about comfort. A friend comforting a friend.

I went on, "My mom did everything she was supposed to do to be attractive to a man. She was Miss State of Alabama 1982. She gave up her own education to help my dad get his education and a career. And in return, he cheated on her. And you…I don't know."

"I what?"

I was embarrassed to say it. I was afraid he wouldn't understand. But in the spirit of family counseling, I gave it a shot. "at the time, I sort of had a crush on you."

I cringed, waiting for him to laugh.

He didn't. His hand stopped on my back for a second, and then he started rubbing again.

I started again. "I mean, I was in ninth grade. Your brother was drum major. You were in the big bad tenth grade. You started the 'ooooooh, aaaaaaaaaah,' which I thought was pretty funny. I didn't really think you'd ask me out. But let's just say I put on my eyeliner in the morning with you in mind. And then you made that JonBenet comment. You made fun of me."

He said softly, "I didn't mean…"

"I know you didn't. And I know it had nothing to do with my parents. It was bad timing. The thing with my parents had just happened, and I made the connection. Why should I try to be what boys want when they make fun of me for trying? So I gave up and did what I wanted."

"Drums," he said.

"Yes."

"Nose stud." He touched the tip of my nose.

"Yes." I said.

He tapped my foot with his foot. "No shoes."

I wiggled my bare toes. "And I didn't want to be a majorette like Sango. I wanted to be drum major, like your brother. I didn't want to be the girl who glittered and danced in front of the band. I wanted to be the girl in charge of the band. Glittering will only get you so far."

I turned to face Sesshomaru because I wanted him to understand where I was coming from. "I was glad my parents stayed together. I was also so proud of Mom for nearly kicking Dad out. I didn't know she was that strong. But if she _had_ kicked him out, what would she have done? She didn't finish college. She hasn't held a job in probably a quarter of a century."

"It's not like she'd be out on the street if she divorced your dad," Sesshomaru said. "She'd come away with something."

"A little Botox fund," I nodded. "But that's not much of a life."

"Some people would think that was a great life," Sesshomaru pointed out. "Just not you."

I shook my head. "Not me."

"You know," Sesshomaru said, "from the little I've seen, your mother's gotten over it."

I thought of my parents holding hands in the football stadium. "She has."

"So why aren't _you_ over it?"

I sighed. "I don't know."

"I think I know." He slid one warm hand over my hands gripped together in my lap.

I stared down, not quite comprehending that his hand was on my hands. Very slowly a tingle crawled from my hands up my arms and shoulders and neck to my face, like sap rising in a tree in spring.

"I know how you feel," he said.

The tingle? No, parents. We were talking about parents. "You're kidding," I said. "Your dad cheated on your mom?"

"I have the opposite problem. My dad can't keep _off_ my mom."

We laughed.

"No," he said, leaning forward so our foreheads almost touched. "I mean, I know that feeling. You argue with them, and you don't want to do what they tell you. But somewhere in the back of your mind you're thinking all along that they're perfect and they know best. You feel like you can be a kid and get in trouble, and in the end it will be okay because they've got your back." He picked up my hand and squeezed it. "And then they let you down."

"That's it," I said. "That's exactly it."

I stared at our hands. We were holding hands. I was holding hands in the back of a car with Sesshomaru Taisho.

And I was wearing a watch.

I jerked my hand away from Sesshomaru's hand and looked at the time. "Oh, God." I opened the door, stood up, and called over the rood of the car to Sango, "Hey, Cinderella. It's almost midnight."

Sango squealed. She directed Miroku, Koga, and Suikotsu as they hefted the trophy back into the SUV.

Sesshomaru frowned up at me from inside Miroku's car. "I wanted to talk some more."

"We have curfew," I said. I closed the door, rounded the car, and hopped into the SUV before he could even get out of the backseat.

In the rearview mirror I could see him watching us go. It probably wouldn't make sense to him, but suddenly I'd even very uncomfortable sitting so close to him in the back of the car. I'd said too much. Even to the crush of a lifetime.


End file.
